


epoch

by gryffindormischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, F/M, I'll add more characters as they come up - Freeform, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), a bit of twelfth night in here too, apparently ao3 didnt want to tell you that before, au first wizarding war, au lily didn't go to hogwarts, au lily raised by wizards, tbh, this will be 3 parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: Forced hands and secrets abound during the First War against Voldemort.  But oppression rarely flourishes without rebellion, and Lily Evans has never been content.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very loose interpretation of my long overdue jilychallenge prompt from March:
> 
> "excuse me why did he have to take his top off whilst training us oh god oh gOD" mulan au with lily and the marauders as soldiers being trained by james
> 
> I estimate this will be a 3 part fic. It's plotted out but I'm not going to make promises about the speed of updates (shouldn't be horribly long). Rest assured it will be completed!

By the fall of 1980, the underground has managed to sneak nearly five thousand muggleborns out of the greater London area and into one of the many hideaways throughout continental Europe. And while the Fenwicks had a more intimate connection to the cause because of Lily, Benjy’d never tried to convince her to follow.

Sometime around six months in, when they were holed up at a checkpoint waiting to take out a few death eaters in the outskirts of Notting Hill, Benjy’d broken the tentative agreement to keep silent. “Is it my selfishness that’s keeping me from asking if you want to go?”

Lily huffs and Benjy laughs quietly, “I don’t want to lose my sister – but I also don’t want to _lose my sister_.”

A smile quirks her lips in the dark, “Quite the conundrum,” she shoves his shoulder lightly, “But I’ll make it easy for you. I’m not going.”

At that he brushes a kiss to the crown of her head and the subject drops.

Until Benjy begins to draw suspicion for his lack of activity – _visible_ activity – in society and consequentially, draws attention to his cohorts. Including family, _and_ almost family. Which is problematic on many levels, with the most pressing being the fact that Lily’s been living in hiding, essentially dead to the world, since she was fifteen.

“I don’t understand the issue, Benjy,” Lily sighs, scrubbing at a pot violently enough that the suds begin to fly, “At least involving me – I’ll just continue with the appearance adjustments anytime we’re seen in public, you’re never with the same person twice.”

“But if they look close enough – ”

“They _won’t_ ,” Lily groans, impatient. “I’m more concerned about _you_.”

Benjy quirks a brow, prompting Lily to elaborate, “If you’re not around, or if you’re around and in the wrong places…”

“So I leave my work with the underground – ”

“Absolutely not,” Lily says with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument, “There’s got to be another solution.”

Slumping down in one of the chairs left untucked from the table after their impromptu meeting with a few intelligence gatherers in the Ministry, Benjy sighs, “I just don’t see a viable alternative.”

It’s quiet for a moment, both their minds whirring as Lily continues her meticulous cleaning in order to keep her hands busy. After a beat, she drops the scrub brush into the half full sink with a _plop_. “ _You_ don’t need to re emerge, just Benjy Fenwick.”

“Lil – I think maybe step away from the cleaning fluid.”

She tosses a handful of bubbles at him. “Don’t be a tosser – I _mean_ they just need to think you’re back.”

* * *

 

Convincing though she is, it takes Lily a solid week of presenting her argument and slowly honing the plan to finally get Benjy to actually _entertain_ the idea of someone – more specifically Lily – masquerading about as ‘Benjy’ for the general public to see and gawk about. It’s another ten days before he lets her actually begin to hash out a plan, and a month and a half before they actually get it off the ground. Though Lily _does_ neglect to remind Benjy that a major part of her plan hinges on her – a muggleborn – working her way through pureblood society in the most obvious way possible.

“No.”

“I already made the polyjuice, Ben,” Lily sighs, shoving a mouthful of mash between her lips.

“Well you can’t have my hair,” Benjy grunts.

“I already _do_.”

With a scowl, Benjy leans back in his chair and sighs, “I knew my favorite thing about you would one day become the thing I hated most.”

Dropping her fork, Lily lets her hand find his, brushing her fingertips across his knuckles comfortingly. “If there was another way.”

Benjy swipes at his eyes messily. “I know. You’re stupidly brave, but not reckless, yeah?”

“Only with a broom,” Lily says lightly after a moment, silver lining her own eyes as she pushes their plates aside and locks her hands around his elbow, his doing the same.

* * *

 

It takes a fortnight for Benjy to agree she’s gotten as close to mastering his particular accent and various peculiarities of movement and speech. It’s another three days to get used to walking with the extra parts being Benjy requires, and two more to remember the Lily parts she no longer needs.

Her first entrance into pureblood society isn’t some fancy soiree or overblown afternoon tea. They go subtle, and ‘Benjy’ arrives back in England from his tour abroad only to browse about in Diagon Alley for the afternoon.

It’s relatively low-key, but she makes a little blurb in the society pages of the Prophet and a few gossip rags. But she goes alone, so it’s just a short blurb about Benjy Fenwick returning – or skulking depending on who you ask – to magical Britain.

Once she returns to the Fenwick estate that evening, lips sore from smiling and feet aching with too many steps walked. “I think I need to be more scandalous.”

Real Benjy quirks a brow at her as he pulls his coat on, readying for a night of questionable, but necessary, activity. “Don’t tarnish my reputation.”

Lily laughs, her close cropped locks gradually tarnishing to back to auburn and slowly slipping over her ears. “People buy sex.”

“Ew. I already have to blot out the reality that you now have to use my body to piss – “

Tugging her shoes off with a wince, Lily plops on the gilt couch and sighs, “I _just_ mean I need to go somewhere with a date – not even a real one. Dorcas’ll do.”

Readjusting her wand holster, the woman in question rounds the corner and knocks into the end table with a clatter. “You rang?”

Lily chuckles at the reference, snapping her fingers, while Benjy glances between them quizzically. “Muggle show on the telly about – ”

Dorcas shrugs when Lily pauses, “Creepy family that doesn’t know they’re creepy.”

Nodding, Lily accepts the summary and Dorcas laughs, “Kinda like you Fenwicks.”

Benjy grunts, affronted, while Lily considers the proposition. “We _are_ a bit strange.”

After flicking Benjy’s ear childishly, Dorcas lounges across the chintz wingback chair closest to the roaring fire and eyes them both. “So why were you discussing me before I came ‘round.”

“Lily-Benjy wants to take you on a date,” Benjy supplies, retying his boots and studiously avoiding eye contact – though his blush can’t really be hidden.

“Imagine – Benjy’s lips with my unique perspective,” Lily sighs, “I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

While Lily and Dorcas wriggle their brows flirtatiously, Benjy rises, rolling his eyes and sighs impatiently in that way only brothers can. “It’s not a _real_ date, and we don’t even have anywhere for you to go that would make an impact. Can’t waste resources.”

“Oi!” Dorcas yelps, tossing a cushion at his head with blistering accuracy, “I’m not _resources_.”

“I meant the polyjuice,” Benjy grumps, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

And as much as Lily loves a good tease, she takes pity on her brother, loosening the collar of her now too-big robes and propping her feet on the coffee table, and tugs a bright white envelope from her inner pocket and waves it. “I’d say a night at the Malfoy’s won’t be a waste, eh?”

* * *

 

When Lily’s lying on one of the couches in the Fenwick library an hour before the Malfoy Gala, reading a novel she plucked from the shelf at random, she’s wondering if she actually _wants_ to be a woman full time again. About twenty minutes later, Dorcas calls her name twice before slamming the heavy wooden door open and drinking in Lily’s lounged position. “I will not have ‘Benjy’ disgrace me in public.”

Lily flips to the next page. “My robes are laid out, I’ve got more than enough polyjuice for the evening,” she pauses as Benjy’s shadow darkens the doorway, “Though I may need another vat of Sleekeazy’s to get that usual _shellacked_ look.”

Benjy flips her off and disappears down the hall while the veritable collection of clocks that are littered through the manor ring the half hour.

“ _And_ that’s my cue.”

They make a more dramatic entrance than Lily would normally, but they are _trying_ for noticeable so fashionably late and booming laughter it is, Dorcas draped over her arm in a respectable nevertheless flirtatious manner. Lily leans close and murmurs in her ear, “We seem to have the floor, proverbially speaking.”

“Fuchsia has always been my color,” Dorcas whispers back as she sends a flirtatious smile to a nearby wizard. He spills his drink and Lily has to bite back her smile. “Apparently so.”

Pressing a kiss to her freshly shaven cheek, Dorcas winks. “Stick with me and we’ll be talk of the party.”

A promise Dorcas _more_ than makes good on. They glide through the dance floor effortlessly – Lily’s been learning to dance as a man, but she always fought the instinct to lead so it’s not _too_ challenging – until Dorcas declares it time for a drink and makes her way off to ‘powder her nose.’

Lily’s made her way toward one of the many open bars and claimed a place on line when the spicy scent of expensive cologne wafts over her shoulder and making her eyes water a bit. She’s debating whether she can hold her breath long enough to tolerate the smell until she gets one of the many necessary she will have this evening when her new companion comes even with her. “Evening, Mr. Fenwick.”

Turning, Lily bites back on a much stronger gag than previously induced by the cologne. “Dolohov.”

Dolohov’s face twists in a poor imitation of a smile. “I would not have expected you here, of all places.”

Somehow, a smile works its way onto Lily’s face despite the flashes of his victims – alive and dead – their injuries like the worst kind of burn victims, the screaming from the live and horror stricken faces of the dead. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you guessed.”

Dolohov quirks a brow and seems about ready to poke Lily just a little _too_ much for her sanity when an arm warms her shoulders. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, eh Antonin? No, didn’t think so.”

It happens in such a flurry that Lily’s halfway across the crowded room when her first coherent thought is she lost her spot in line. She grunts at her kidnapper, “I was waiting for a drink, you know.”

She finally sees her new companion, devilishly handsome and smirking in that way that makes everyone fall in love with him. “Sirius Orion Black, at your service.”

The string quartet starts a new, bouncier tune and Dorcas reemerges from the loo, sending Lily a questioning glance. After sending a reassuring smile, Lily turns her attention back to Sirius Black as he pulls a flask from the depths of his impeccably tailored robes. “I can help with the drink, if you’re not picky.”

Lily smiles but waives it away, “Nah, I’ll just wait ‘til the line clears out a bit.”

“Good luck,” Sirius drawls, taking a swig before tucking it back away, “The only way to make it through a Malfoy party is to be well and truly pissed.”

It’s a struggle, not to be disarmed by Sirius’ flashy grin and even more dazzling personality, but she perseveres. “I really should be getting back to my date.”

Sirius’ eyes dart to where Lily’s gestured and Dorcas raises her champagne flute in recognition. He nods and turns back to Lily, all lightness gone, his tone low. “We really should have a chat, now you’re back Benjy. I’d love to catch up.”

Lily holds his gaze, shoulders squared. “Owl me, we’ll get together.”

With a nod, Lily gets the bartender’s attention and manages to slip in her drink request and swipe it from the waxy counter before wending her way toward Dorcas. “Nice location choice.”

Dorcas smirks around the rim of her glass, “No sound bouncing, full view of the room, wall at our backs. Not my first rodeo.”

“Dolohov was real interested in chatting with me,” Lily murmurs.

After a few moments, they both throw back the last of their drinks and Lily lets her gaze roam around the room. “Care to dance?”

“Don’t embarrass me,” Dorcas answers teasingly as Lily leads her to the center of the floor.

As the glide around the room in elegant circuits, Lily cases the room, “Sirius Black.”

Dorcas snorts but doesn’t provide any information beyond that.

“So?” Lily prompts, “I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.”

“He’s a bit of a wildcard, that one – family’s a bunch of pureblooded arses but he hangs around with James Potter,” Dorcas murmurs around the rim of her champagne glass, “And the Potter’s have never really been accepted by the so-called ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’.”

Lily snorts and tries to subtly slip her flask from it’s hiding place, hoping the movement looks like she’s got a thing for hard liquor and not – well not the truth. After taking a healthy swig, she narrows her eyes and scans the room, “So’s Potter here? And being an outsider doesn’t necessarily mean trustworthy, yeah?”

Dorcas hums thoughtfully, swiping an hors d'oeuvre from a passing waiter and crunches into the little mini crunchy something-or-other. “I always got a good feeling from him – bit of a prat, but who isn’t at thirteen?”

“ _Me_.”

“Eh, special case,” Dorcas says lightly, “They always had a head for pranks but the four of them tended to be on the right side when it counted.”

“So – “

Dorcas rolls her eyes but tucks her arm through Lily’s, pulling her through the pressing crowd to keep up the pretense of ‘carefree partygoers’. “Haven’t seen him yet – but it’s rare to see one without the other.”

“Sounds a bit,” Lily hesitates, “Codependent.”

A throat clears behind them and Lily’s heart jumps in her throat, though she keeps her demeanor cool and calm. Though her pulse thrums when she turns and finds herself faced with six-foot-something worth of lanky beauty, with a rakish grin and clumsily adorable spectacles to boot. He blinks, head tilting sideways as if he’s examining her. “We prefer endearingly brother-like connection.”

Somehow, she does manage to will the blush from her cheeks and puts on that signature _Benjy Fenwick_ swagger, but it’s her teasing drawl that spills from her lips. “I’m sure you do.”

James Potter’s brows rise but he laughs, “Good to meet you – _officially_ I should say – you’ve got quite the reputation.”

Lily blinks, “So’ve you.”

“Good I hope,” Potter says lightly, swirling the amber liquid in his spotless glass.

“I’ve never been much for reputations,” Lily offers, eyeing him up and down, “I prefer forming my own opinion.”

And while Potter volleys something back, airy and with that little lilt of an accent that has some secret part of her melting, Dorcas pinches Lily’s inner arm and murmurs under her breath, “Op-stay irting-flay.”

“Was not,” Lily grumbles out of the corner of her mouth, just as James’ lofty speech comes to a close, his gaze alight with humor.

“I won’t keep you from your lovely date any longer Ben – seems she’s about to claw my eyes out.”

As an afterthought – or perhaps what he _wants_ to appear as an afterthought – James pauses and reaches his hand into the inner pocket of his robes and presents Lily with a crisp cream-colored card. “We should get together and discuss business and – things.”

He’s halfway across the ballroom when Dorcas leans close so her lips brush Lily’s ear, “I’m not sure if you got us a lead or Benjy a date.”

* * *

 

They stay up late into the night, hashing and rehashing the rather dull events of the evening as Lily slowly slips back into her own skin. Despite the hours spent practicing how to be Benjy while being Benjy, Lily still shivers when the last of her becomes _her_ again. A thudding sort of headache is growing at the base of her skull – whether from stress, tiredness, or alcohol she’s not quite sure – when Benjy leans back in his chair and sighs. “Sounds to me like your choices based on this evening are relatively simple. Potter or no Potter.”

“How so?”

Benjy shrugs, “Well, as there was only one person who made any allusions about further contact, the question is whether we think you _should_ have further contact.”

Dorcas stirs her tea absentmindedly, dress robes tugged up to her knees and bunching around her waist as she slumps in her seat. “Don’t see why she _wouldn’t_.”

Lily fishes around for the card in her now overlarge robes and examines it thoughtfully, “What’s the pureblooded thing to do? Owl him with posh stationary or show up at his manor – I assume all you people have them – and try and catch him off guard?”

Benjy flicks his wand at the hearth and the flames rise in response, warm and comforting after an evening spent hobnobbing in the most uncomfortable way possible and Lily finally feels herself start to relax. Her eyes have just begun to drift shut when Benjy hums thoughtfully. “I vote letter.”

“You’re no fun,” Dorcas grumbles, summoning a box of biscuits from the kitchen with a lazy twist of her wrist.

“ _So_ ,” Lily prompts, working the first few brass buttons on her robes free and tilting her head in Benjy’s direction.

“Want lessons in forging my handwriting?”

“I perfected that particular talent one particularly boring fortnight in what would’ve been my fourth year.”

Benjy chuckles, “Bet you spent _hours_ poring over my riveting letters home.”

“Mum Fenwick had me correct them for spelling and grammar errors,” Lily drawls, topping off her tea, “I s’pose I’ll need to work on that if I’m going to be convincing as _you_.”

“Stuff it.”

“You.”

Dorcas clears her throat, “Riveting as I’m sure the rest of your _repartee_ will be – what will the letter say?”

Dunking a crumbly shortbread biscuit in her tea, Lily shrugs, “Swotty stuff, heavy hints that ‘Benjy’ wants to be friends.”

“Well, let’s get it done before I pass out right on the table, yeah?” Benjy suggests, hiding a yawn.

Clearing her throat importantly, Lily strides across the hall and into the den where one of the seven writing desks tucked throughout Fenwick Manor is housed and perches on the dainty chair. “Shall we begin?”

* * *

 

A few uneventful and utterly unremarkable owls are exchanged between them before Lily’s hand is hovering over the fireplace, fist clenched around a pinch of floo powder while Benjy gives her a few last instructions.

“…And if you feel endangered at all – ”

“Ben – I’ve got a handful of floo powder currently clumping in my palm,” Lily interrupts, “And I’d give you a goodbye peck on the cheek but – ”

Benjy grimaces, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly, “Nah, I’d like to make it through my life without having kissed myself in any way.”

And before Benjy can complete his eye roll, Lily’s disappeared into the flames, and landed in a swirl of green sparks in what she hopes is Potter Manor.

The room she’s entered is cozy, for all it’s opulence, two well-worn high-backed leather chairs stand like sentinels on either side of the fireplace she’s stepped out of, an intricate rug below her feet, thick and plush.

But her eyes quickly leave the vivid reds and blues of the weave beneath her, drawn to the portraits that line the walls ‘til the embossed wallpaper behind them is nearly imperceptible.

The subjects begin chattering almost as soon as she steps from the flames, dusting her robes off, but one man somewhere near the center clears his throat and strokes his rather pointed facial hair as he waits for his relatives to fall silent.

Once they’ve begin to quiet, he shares a commiserating glance with Lily and sighs, “James did say he was expecting a guest,” he tucks his pocket watch back into his waistcoat and dips his head in the manner of posh gentlemen, “I’ll be off to fetch my roguish young great nephew.”

The as yet unidentified Potter ancestor disappears in a dramatic swirl of robes Lily’s willing to bet is a family trait while the remaining portraits quiet down. The inhabitant of the one furthest to the left bottom corner, encased in a rather ornate albeit ancient looking frame, turns his piercing gaze on Lily and tucks her monocle over her left eye, “You – come closer.”

Fighting the instinct to look over her shoulder and confirm that she is the one being addressed, Lily brushes a bit of soot from her shoulders and makes her way to the corner. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Potter.”

“Everyone called me Gert, you’d do well to do the same,” the older woman says with a surprisingly cheery grumble.

“Well then it’s a pleasure, Gert,” Lily corrects easily, “I’d normally offer my hand but – “

Gert waves her away, eyes dragging over Lily’s borrowed robes, “Never was much for ceremony,” she clucks her tongue, “I prefer irreverent rule breakers.”

“Which is why I’m you’re favorite great-great-great grandson,” James Potter’s voice calls from the doorway so suddenly Lily nearly upends the delicately carved table behind her.

Rolling her eyes, Gert stage whispers to Lily, “He’s my _only_ great-great-great grandson – had to make lemonade, eh?”

James harrumphs as another voice joins the conversation, “I resent my _glaring_ absence from this narrative. Good to see you again, Benny – can I call you Benny?”

Lily shrugs, “Sirius Orion Black, can I call you _S-O-B_?”

Sirius arches backward, barking out a laugh that echoes through the paneled wood parlor, “Wouldn’t be inaccurate.”

Gert snickers and shoos them off to do the things ‘young, alive people do’.

With a short wave, James acknowledges the Potters chattering from the wall before glancing at Lily, “Perhaps we’ll go somewhere where the walls have less ears?”

Lily snorts and claps James on the shoulder that way she’s seen Benjy do a million times, “Sounds like a plan, Potter. Though Gert and I were hitting it off.”

“She’s a regular ol’ flirt,” Sirius says with a laugh, leading the way toward the front of the manor, James close behind. Lily does her best to take in her surroundings, marking the path in the event a speedy exit is needed.

Mostly, she finds elegantly papered walls, plush rugs, and family photos on every available surface – a large majority of which seem to document the life of one James Potter. Who, Lily will admit in the privacy of her own mind, was an adorable baby.

They round another corner and once again, the room they’ve entered is luxurious and clearly displays the Potter’s wealth, but has an unexpected coziness about it that would put Lily at ease, were she not currently telling about five lies just by _being_ here and trying to decide whether she’s in the presence of death eaters.

The room is nearly as wide as it is long, windows from floor to ceiling on the farthest walls that let in blocks of sunlight that illuminate the room. Lily claims a seat in the corner with easy access to potential exits and a full view of her surroundings, save a couple of landscapes in heavy gold frames over her head.

Sirius easily claims more than half the couch for himself, sprawled across the tapestry cushions like he owns the place while James positions himself at the fireplace, smaller than the other but framed by an intricately carved mantel. Before they can try and drum up some sort of small talk, a third – or fourth depending on whether Lily counts – man enters with a tea service. The Potters get at least one mark in their favor since they don’t have house elves, or at least prefer to not give the appearance they do.

The newcomer smiles, a bit hesitant, and blows his lank brown hair back from his eyes as he strides toward the tea table. After setting the tray down with a small clatter, he lopes over to the unclaimed half of the couch and settles back comfortably.

“Benjy – this sorry sod is none other than Remus John Lupin.”

Remus’ eyes spark with interest at Benjy’s name, his gaze taking in the carefully selected robes and coiffed hair while Lily does the same, noting his neat but well-worn robes that seem to hang a bit too loosely from Remus’ lanky form.

Sirius is the first to lean forward and begin preparing his tea, claiming a few biscuits while he’s at it, and the others follow suit in turn while he stirs his drink slowly. “Shame you didn’t come a bit earlier – could’ve met Pete.”

Lily raises a brow in question – hopefully Benjy doesn’t know ‘Pete’ – and James takes the hint. “Peter Pettigrew. Friend of ours since Hogwarts,” he pauses to add another lump of sugar to his tea, “Had something come up he couldn’t miss.”

“Always has been a mum’s boy,” Sirius chuckles, sipping his tea.

With a roll of his eyes, James dunks his biscuit in his milky tea. “You’re one to talk.”

And at Sirius’ gasp, James amends, “ _My_ mum – your actual mum’s another story.”

“Don’t be jealous of our love,” Sirius sighs, propping one foot on the table while Remus rolls his eyes skyward.

James looks like he’s about to fire some barb back when Remus clears his throat and slants his gaze toward Lily meaningfully and James’ expression sobers. “Ah – yes,” he laughs a little, “Remus is best at keeping us on track for things.”

Balancing her tea on her knee, Lily tries to keep the tenseness rising in her chest from showing and slants her lips in a smile she’s seen on Benjy countless times. “Is there an itinerary for the day? Light chatting and then gentleman’s games in the garden?”

“We always do lunch before gentleman’s games,” Sirius gasps, scandalized, “We’re not _barbarians_.”

Remus drops his head back against the settee and groans, “Oh my god.”

James shares a commiserating glance with Lily, impatience battling how endeared he is to his friends. “ _Anyway_. Not to put too fine a point on it, but we’ve looked into you and your family.”

“Ominous,” Lily puts in.

“Nothing nefarious, Benny,” Sirius assures, somehow sinking further into his seat. It’s a good thing Lily’s the one getting all this ‘Benny’ business because the real Benjy would’ve hexed Sirius into next week by now – artistic liberties never save a life before.

Narrowing his eyes at Sirius, James picks up as if the interruption hadn’t occurred, “We’re part of a venture of sorts, and it seems your family has a tendency to tread lightly where politics are concerned.”

Lily tilts her head, an invitation to continue.

“But it’s been my experience that silence doesn’t mean there’s no stance – ”

“We may often find ourselves in Gryffindor, but Fenwicks don’t act rashly.”

James’ eyes find hers and he practically pins her with his stare, unreadable though it is. “No, but you don’t sit on the sidelines when there’s work to be done – Ralston Potter was a close friend of Gyles Fenwick.”

Brows rising, Lily strokes her chin – stubble already rising along her jaw – and hums. Much as she’d like to dive into whatever their undertaking is head first, whether to further it or to destroy it from the inside remains to be determined, she’s not alone in her _own_ subterfuge. So hedging it is. “The Statute of Secrecy was a fairly singular issue, wouldn’t you say?”

“In hindsight, yes, but perhaps not always,” Remus muses, fingers toying with the tassels that decorate the cushion beneath his arm.

Smoothing her robes, Lily sets her tea off to the side. “It has been two hundred years since the last Fenwick for something publicly – controversial or no,” she pauses, “So you understand my hesitance.”

With a rather fantastic and beautifully inappropriate growl, Sirius sits forward, feet dropping to the thick rug with two thuds, “So you’re saying no.”

Lily lets her eyes find James’ and addresses him, though she’s answering Sirius’ question. “I’m saying, wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and dashing duos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOP. I hope you like! About 5000 words for you :)

Lily’s back in her own skin, showered, and well on the way to being fed when Dorcas steps gracefully from the fireplace in a decidedly more stuffy set of fleece pajamas than Lily’d have expected. When she says as much, Dorcas winks and summons an empty cup and saucer to herself, “It’s the only thing I’ve got in the way of pajamas – mum never did like the idea of me sleeping sans clothing.”

And though Benjy’s pointedly ignoring the conversation, Lily’s not unobservant enough to miss the way the tips of his ears redden, or Dorcas’ triumphant expression when she notes the same. Still, there are more pressing matters to address and Benjy’s never taken well to full frontal assaults. It’s better to sweet talk him when it’s just the two of them and she’s just let him win a few rounds of Snap.

In her distraction, Lily’s a bit caught off guard when Benjy sets a plate before her filled with generous slices of roast, at least a double portion of potatoes, and just as many green beans as he knows she’ll force herself to swallow down. Before she can inquire, he returns with freshly warmed bread rolls and deliciously creamy pats of butter on the side. Dorcas chuckles when Lily moans at the first bite, already slicing into the roast again, swiping at the spiced gravy poured over top.

As she breaks off a piece of bread and slathers a healthy portion of butter on the still warm center, Benjy prepares his own cuppa and claims one of the two remaining seats in the small nook just off the kitchen. “So, I assume we’ve had some important developments or you wouldn’t have demanded Dorcas attend.”

Dragging another bite of roast through her potatoes, Lily takes a moment to enjoy the delicious mix of heady flavors swirling over her tongue before she responds. “Apparently, Potter and Black – and Lupin,” she pauses, “And maybe Pettigrew? Anyway, they’ve invited me – meaning _you_ – to join up with a little extra-legal group they’ve gotten caught up in.”

Dorcas sets her cup in the saucer with a clatter, “Death Eaters? I never – ”

Lily wrestles a few green beans into her mouth. “Not Death Eaters – at least not on it’s face.”

Benjy stretches back to reach for a packet of biscuits and Dorcas’ eyes skate over his form while she’s got the chance to remain unnoticed – save by Lily, who smirks and quirks a brow but otherwise lets the indiscretion pass. “It seems they’ve got some _anti_ Death Eater something or other going on and want the Fenwicks to join up – or at least one Fenwick.”

“One Fenwick who isn’t actually the Fenwick they think and is only pretending to be that Fenwick because the other Fenwick is trying to keep a low profile and needed a double to move about in society,” Benjy pauses, “Not join up with some _other_ underground organization to put herself in even more danger.”

“What did the English language ever do to you, Benjy?” Lily responds, mulish.

He glares when Dorcas snorts and kicks at Lily’s shins beneath the table. “All I’m suggesting, is this is hardly the point of our little farce. And anything that puts Lily in more – “  
“Doesn’t it make more sense to kill two birds with one Polyjuiced stone?” Dorcas muses, snatching a biscuit for herself before Benjy steals them away in retaliation.

“You’re my favorite,” Lily says with a smile, pushing her plate away and topping off her tea.

“I’m too tired to put up my usual pointless arguments,” Benjy sighs, draining his tea to the dregs, “Just because I know it’s useless doesn’t mean I’m not opposed.”

Lily pats his hand. “Wise to know when you’ve lost, Ben.”

* * *

 

“Don’t forget your flask – “

“I know,” Lily murmurs, gulping down her first dose with a wince.

“And if things start to go poorly – “

Readjusting her clothes over her newly grown body, Lily pats Benjy’s cheek. “Benjy, I will be _fine_. I’m going in fully aware and on my guard. I’ve done little espionage missions before.”

Benjy sighs and slumps into the tufted chair tucked just under Lily’s bedroom window. “But never because of me, Lily. It’s – you’re my. You’re the closest I’ve got to a sister. Not sure how blood could change anything.”

Lily makes to hug him but hesitates, “How weird would it – “

“Just this once, eh?”

And when she’s tucked against his chest, nose buried in the familiar woodsy scent of his cloak, Lily can almost forget she’s a foot taller and sporting entirely different parts than her traditional ones. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” Benjy sniffs, swiping under his eyes swiftly.

“I’m too good to need it,” Lily laughs, “And besides, this is just a little ‘audition’ – sparring practice and meeting some of the members.”

He narrows his eyes but releases his grip on her arms before striding toward the hall. “Just – I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Of course.”

Lily gulps down some lukewarm tea and a dinner roll before checking the time and James’ scrawled instructions, then murmurs _Potter Manor_ and disappears in a swirl of green flames. She steps from the flames with considerably less grace than Dorcas and finds James Potter waiting for her with a grin she’s quickly learning is a signature of his.

“Fenwick.”

“Potter.”

Their eyes lock for a handful of moments and Lily’s not made of stone and not ashamed to admit she gets a bit lost in those hazel eyes, mischievous and warm and – He clears his throat, “Shall we be off?”

Smoothing back Benjy’s traditionally slicked hair, Lily follows as James leads her past the snoozing portraits and toward a small library down the hall, the house silent around them save for the ticking of clocks and their own footsteps. “Mr. Black? And Mr. Lupin?”

“Sirius will already be there – he had a late night,” James breaches the doorway and strides across the emerald carpet toward a broad wooden desk tucked in the corner with entirely too many books and papers scattered across the top. As he begins shuffling through the detritus, he adds, “And Remus,” he tosses a white glove stained with some mysterious purple substance over his shoulder, “He’s got family business but he may turn up.”

Lily takes the vague answer for the brush off that it is and saves her questioning for later while James searches more frantically as the mantle clock ticks away the minutes.

It’s nearing half past when Lily clears her throat, “Can I – “

James shouts, raising a scratched letter opener with a macaw shaped handle, “Grab ahold, Fenwick, we’re off.”

Whatever complaints Lily’s ever had about the head-spinning effects of apparition pale in comparison to the abrupt feeling of portkeys, like a hook settling somewhere near your navel and tugging into the unknown across space. When they touch down in a well kept garden, cobblestones beneath their shoes, Lily stumbles forward and is only prevented from flipping headlong into the duck pond by James’ strong, sure grip on her elbow. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice the flush that rises on her neck.

The next quarter of an hour or so passes relatively quickly as James gives her an abbreviated tour of the safe house they’re all meeting in that day. Remus joins them toward the end of the brief trek, looking a bit under the weather but still greeting Lily with a friendly nod and a warmer smile for James. “How’s your first day so far, Benjy?”

“James has been quite the guide, I’ve got just enough information about the house to feel like I’ve seen everything without seeing more than two-thirds of the whole place.”

James opens his mouth, presumably to mount some sort of defense, but Lily waves him off, “You’ve known me – I don’t know. Not very long. I’d be more concerned if you dropped all your deep dark secrets this fast.”

Remus laughs like it catches him by surprise and pats Lily on the shoulder, “Excellent point, Mr. Fenwick.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Lupin,” Lily replies, matching his teasingly lofty tone.

Quirking a brow, James begins leading the way back toward the front of the house through a few whitewashed halls with creaky floors, a fresh lemony scent, one Lily recognizes from home care lessons with Benjy’s aunt, heavy in the air.

When they reach the end of the hall, James pauses with his fingers on the doorknob and glances at Lily over his shoulder, “Hope you dressed comfortably, Fenwick. I’ve got some frustration to work off.”

And then he pushes the door open and Lily’s hit with a cacophony of competing sounds – grunts, exclamations, and shouted spells mixing with crashes, slams, and cracks as each wand slices through the air. It’s all as Lily would’ve expected from a magical underground resistance group, until her gaze finds a quartet of witches and wizards sparring without wands tucked in the corner. James follows her eyes and claps a hand on her shoulders – she can’t help but consider whether he’d do the same if she were in her own, much smaller and less manly body – and smiles dangerously. “Benjy, you know my mind. Up for some hand to hand combat?”

Remus lingers just over her shoulder, slowly taking in the scene and seeming to assess each couple for form and ability. “If I recall, your spellwork would hardly be called deficient.”

Despite her extensive preparation and essentially lifelong expertise in Benjy Fenwick, Lily startles a bit and stumbles over her response, though hopefully it’ll be put of to general social awkwardness and nothing more. Luckily, the utter bizarreness of the situation is mark in her favor – eccentric and uncomfortable Benjy is generally viewed as a more likely explanation than polyjuiced adopted sister parading about and pretending to be her adopted brother to avoid discovery of an underground society dedicated to protecting muggleborns and muggles from Death Eaters.

By the time Lily’s full attention is focused on her companions once again, James has claimed a section of sparring mats and shucked his over robes in favor of his loose fitting tunic and trousers beneath. “Ready, Fenwick?”

Lily throws back her shoulders and strides over with Benjy’s characteristic overconfidence. “Are you, Potter?”

And _that_ was a bit flirtier than would be characteristic of Benjy, but Lily’s got few joys in life and seeing James Potter blush is quickly becoming one of them.

Flexing her fingers while James shakes out his arms, Lily is mentally deciding which style of combat is best suited to Benjy’s body when James swipes at her leg and drops her to the mats with a dull thud that sends stars behind her eyes. He offers her a hand up and Lily makes to grab it, but instead kicks at his thigh and gets him to his knees looming over her. His glasses begin to slip down the bridge of his nose and his chest is heaving so Lily sees her chance, caught up in the adrenaline of it all, and raises her palm in a quick upward motion, connecting with his nose with a crunch.

Despite the blood that begins pouring from his likely broken nose, James doesn’t address the trickle, instead grabbing Lily’s forearms and pinning them overhead while he brings his shins to pin her legs down.

Or at least attempts – Lily’s not fallen enough behind to take the issue lying down and instead expertly digs her knee between James’ legs and as he groans in pain, shoves his gut with a strong kick of her booted foot.

When James collapses back against the mats, he’s grinning like he’s just aced an exam and points a bloody finger at Lily as she sits up. “You, my friend, are an excellent fighter.”

Before Lily can respond, a slow clap echoes from overhead and Sirius Black’s gauzy drawl sounds. “Now that was a show.”

Remus snorts. “They are the best match I’ve seen – “ he glances Lily, “James usually wipes the floor with his opponents. It’s nice to see him get a bit bloodied for once.”

Rising onto her knees, Lily shuffles over and begins by syphoning the blood from James’ face and shirt before concentrating on his bruising face. “Hold still, yeah?”

With a quick muttered, _episkey_ , James’ nose is righted and most of the darkening under his eyes is gone, his warm hazel eyes blown wide and entirely focused on Lily. Without bidding, Lily’s thumb – her calloused thumb that’s entirely not hers – brushes along his jaw where she’s holding it still. “Better?”

He matches her tone, and nods slow, “Yeah,” he clears his throat and breaks their focus, “Sirius, tell Kingsley I’ll partner with Benjy for his first night out?”

Quirking a brow, Sirius jerks his head in answer and disappears through a door in the far corner.

Lily asks after a loo while James has a hushed conversation with a dark haired woman with an almost inhumanly erect posture. And based on her immaculate bun and perfectly creased tartan sash, Lily’s almost certain this is the infamously extraordinary Minerva McGonagall from Benjy’s stories.

Once she’s been given directions, Lily disappears into the loo and takes a steadying breath, smoothing her hair and checking for any wavers in her disguise. Though all looks in order, she keeps to the schedule and takes a healthy swallow from the flask tucked inside her waistcoat.

While she’s here, she reluctantly – and mostly blind – takes care of business before washing her hands and taking a steadying breath. Because of all the things she’d foreseen as potential problems during this whole farce, creating sexual tension between James Potter and herself _as Benjy_ was not one of them. But things are what they are, and she’ll just have to plow ahead and perhaps scream into a pillow when she finally gets home.

* * *

 

James makes sure Lily gets a few more formal introductions, various members of the Order as she’s learned it’s called, including a grizzly auror called Moody, who grunts at her and examines her fairly closely, making Lily glad they decided to forgo transfiguration or charms to bring her into Benjy’s likeness. He nods curtly and passes James a slip of parchment before stumping off.   McGonagall purses her lips and greets Benjy, grim as she tucks her breeches into high boots – worn but impeccably clean. Lily’d wager a guess they’re her old Quidditch boots, but there’s no time for musing on the idea of the imposing Scotswoman flying high above the crowds and diving between opponents with fluid intensity. A few more men and women greet her with varying levels of suspicion, mostly names she’s never heard before and she feels a kernel of bittersweet warmth bloom in her chest at the idea of so many muggleborns standing to fight instead of slinking off and leaving the wizarding world to be picked over by Voldemort and his horrid vultures.

Gesturing for her to follow, James heads toward a drawing room that’s been outfitted as an armory of sorts, potions under lock and key that Lily presumes will need more than an _alohamora_ , cloaks and dark coats hung on hooks with messily scrawled names over each. James makes his way over to the hook marked with his name and points out a bare one in the corner. “You can store your things there. We’ve got a couple cursebreakers that cooked us up a little spell to ensure no one leaves with anything they’re not supposed to.”

Lily snorts, “How long did it take Black to test it out?”

James laughs like it caught him by surprise, his hazel eyes dancing as he exchanges his crisp robes for a dark leathery coat, flicking the collar around his jawline. “Less than a day. He’s never been one for self preservation.”

Making her way over to the corner, Lily begins by marking out her own name on the bit of parchment affixed over the hook, the ‘B’ looking a bit angular, but twenty some odd years starting your name off with an ‘L’ is no easy habit to overcome. She’d keep the little oversight to herself though, Benjy was always three sentences away from locking her potions supplies away and shaving his head to keep her in her own skin.

Shrugging off Benjy’s more formal robes, Lily reaches into the pouch at her hip and tugs one of his signature coats from inside, waist length and riddled with hidden pockets. As well as a few carefully crafted protective charms they’d worked up over the years.

It’s still odd, not needing to fluff her hair over the collar and Lily’s almost certain she makes a strange picture as she pushes the phantom locks free.

If anyone asks, maybe she’ll start the idea circulating that ol’ Benjy tried out a new hairstyle while on the continent in an attempt to match up with the general European populous. No harm in adding another fib to the ever growing pile of deception lingering somewhere around her hips at this point.

“Can you apparate from coordinates?” James asks, patting his coat down before striding across the room, flicking his wand in an intricate pattern and grabbing a few vials from the dusty shelf.

Lily’s mouth twists, “I understand the theory well enough, but I’m not entirely confident all parts of me will get to the appropriate locale.”

His lips tilt at that and James tilts his head toward the entryway, “Sidealong’s probably better – only one pop.”

It’s odd, apparating in a different body, almost like the first time she’d done it. Which is really why she’d shied away from the challenge of her first attempt at coordinate based travel. Hopefully she doesn’t cling too tightly to James’ arm as they disappear from the front yard and onto a pebbled beach, the sun well and truly on the way to setting by the time they’re crunching up toward the cliffs.

Though where Lily thinks they’ll make a detour toward the sloping ramp of stone that leads to the lush green top of the cliffs, James veers toward the precipice, waves beating out a ceaseless rhythm at their backs. And as if he sensed her unasked question, James slows and matches stride with her, leaning close and murmuring in an undertone. “We’ve got word that there are some caves around here with heavy magic signatures. It’s not clear whether nefarious things are afoot – “

Lily snorts, “Nefarious?”

“Excuse me, mum likes a good vocabulary.”

She nudges his arm with her elbow, “A proper mummy’s boy then?”

James pulls her behind a rocky outcropping and peers around the chalky surface for any unwelcome company. It seems safe enough, but he doesn’t budge, “I’d like to wait out here for a bit – the entrance to some caves is just there and it’d be right convenient if that’s our hot spot.”

“There’s a lot of cliffs around here Potter, a lot of caves – “

He holds her gaze and reaches into his breast pocket, “Which is why I brought _this_.”

Frowning, Lily holds out her hand – still a bit caught off guard when it’s tanned and scarred in place of her slim, pale one – and raises the vial to take a sniff, sharp and pungent with a strange pearlescent hue and an unusual yellow coloring. “Circumspicio elixir?”

“You know your potions,” James whispers with a grin, “Dad can look at a set of ingredients and list the top five concoctions to be made.”

Tucking the lid away, James reaches into his seemingly endless pockets and retrieves what appears to be the top of a spray bottle and attaches it to the elixir with a few twists of his wrist. “Figured this trick out in sixth year – Sprout had ‘em in the greenhouses and it seemed dead useful. Nicked the first one to test out the idea,” he squeezes the trigger once to try it, “Then bought my own supply.”

A smirk twists Lily’s mouth, “Can’t help but think your motives were less purely motivated at the start.”

“Are you telling me you never got up to mischief at Hogwarts, Fenwick?”

And it’s the addition of the name at the end really, that calls Lily back to reality as James trots toward the small cave mouth and gets to work with his bottle. This isn’t her – it’s not them. James is living a half-truth against his will and for the first time she feels sourness in the pit of her stomach at the thought that none of these people know who she is. If she passed James in the street, she’d get that stilted smile instead of the increasingly familiar slanting grin he sends at her now – it’ll all be gone when this is over. Whatever _this_ even is.

She doesn’t have long to muse on the idea as James returns, barely out of breath despite the jog and buckets of adrenaline she assumes are flowing through his veins, if the brightness in his eyes is anything to go by. He tugs her down and gets them into position so the rocks hide them while allowing an almost unencumbered view of the cave. “Ben – this is it. There’s some heavy magic guarding that entrance.”

“And the spray is completely undetectable – “

“Carried away on the wind,” James confirms.

“But you’ve got an exact outline of the wards – it’s genius.”

Even with the darkness, the silvery moonlight allows Lily to enjoy how his cheeks flush at the compliment. “Dad always liked to reinforce the usefulness of potions beyond the usual ailments, grooming, and destiny changing stuff.”

Lily shuffles her feet, getting a bit more comfortable, “This coming from Fleamont Potter, the Sleekeazy’s magnate.”

He fiddles with a few rocks at his feet. “Can’t choose what you get famous for.”

“Not something I’d expect to hear from you – James Ignotius Potter certainly ruffled some feathers when he joined the aurors rather than accepting a fairly convincing offer from the Falcons,” Lily answers, eyes only darting to read his tensed posture for a few moments before they return to the cave.

The answering laugh comes out more like a huff. “Puddlemere was much more tempting.”

Lily shuffles, trying to keep the gravel from crunching beneath her feet while preventing her extremities from going numb from disuse. “Not tempting enough?”

Sighing, James leans a bit more into the craggy outcropping they’ve taken sanctuary behind and darts his eyes toward Lily, “I just felt irresponsible – I had enough talent for either – “

“And humble too,” Lily teases, earning an eye roll from James that’d likely have been accompanied by a shove if not for their less than playful circumstances, if his dangerous smirk is anything to go by.

But he sobers, “I couldn’t go out for Quidditch with all _this_ going on,” he gestures vaguely, a small rueful smile tilting his lips, “Maybe after the war, yeah?”

“Perhaps our kids’ll get the luxury of peacetime employment,” Lily muses softly.

The waves continue their steady beating against the shoreline, the crash in and rush out that can almost send you to sleep with its calming rhythm. Wind whips from the sea and brings goosebumps on her skin, sends shivers down her spine.

James pulls a flask from some inner pocket on his cloak and takes a long drag, “It’d be better if we were allowed alcohol on missions, nothing like a mouthful of firewhisky to keep you warm,” he smiles and offers Lily a sip but she waves it away, pulling out her own and taking a long swig, body tingling with magic.

They’re silent a few moments; eyes locked on the empty cave mouth and muscles tense. Until James clears his throat and rubs at a chalky stain on his trousers, “What about you?”

Lily hums, lost in her own thoughts and far away from the thread of their conversation, so James reiterates, “What would you do, after the war?”

It’s a novel thought – her life without a war to consider. For as long as she can really recall every move and non-move has been in some way determined by outside forces battling for the soul of the wizarding world. Her only foray into the beautiful, wonderful side of magic was a brief afternoon with a man called Filius Flitwick visiting her home and suddenly so much of her odd little first eleven years of life makes sense. The unexplainable happenings when she was excited or sad or just curious – the way she floated just a little bit higher when she leapt from the swings, the way her mum’s beloved marigolds bloomed back to life in her palm after the neighborhood boys tramped across the yard.

But it had only lasted through those beautiful few hours. She’d drifted off to sleep, Petunia at her _new_ best friend’s house because that afternoon had been the last straw in her tolerance of Lily’s peculiarities, until she was woken in the middle of the night to loud shouting and the smell of smoke.

Before her mind wanders much further into the winding paths of the past, James nudges her boot with his. “Alright?”

She startles a bit, but James’ expression is so soft, so kind, that she can’t deny the way her chest lightens, past pain releasing its clawed grip on her heart for the moment at least. “I always loved Charms,” Lily shrugs, “But I think I’d like to go into experimental Potions – there’s so much I know we could do with them I mean just _werewolves_ , the suffering – “

James’ raised brows have her stuttering to a halt and a flush rising on her cheeks. “Sorry – this isn’t some long game attempt to get in with your dad.”

He snorts, “Dad would love to see a young person excited about potions.”

Slightly recovered, Lily eyes the bottle in his hand, “And you’re not?”

There’s a pause as they both turn their full attention to the reason they’re here, the cave that’s still bare and seemingly empty. James shuffles again and squints up at the moon, glowing overhead like a fully belly after Christmas dinner. “Nah. I see their use, make sure to take advantage,” he lifts the bottle and shakes it in illustration, “But he’s got a way with them – it’s like _art_.”

“That’s – “ Lily cuts off and grabs James’ shoulder, “Look.”

His eyes dart to her hand on his arm but quickly away to the cave where people in dark robes are emerging carrying what seem to be heavy crates in twos. James holds a finger to his lips and then gestures for Lily to follow him, crawling closer and diving behind rocks so the milky moonlight doesn’t reveal their squatting forms.

They’ve just shifted from one formation to the next when the sharp rocks they left crumble a bit and fall with a loud clatter and their cover is blown. James whips out his wand and immediately sends a few hexes flying. Accurate though he is, they fly wide of moving targets and crackle against the mountainside. Lily manages to fire off a few slicing hexes and make contact, her victim letting out a yelp into the darkness and nearly dropping his half of the package.

As James and Lily give chase, one of the hooded men fires a spell back toward the cave mouth and a fire ignites, bright and destructive against the dark air. Lily shoots a panicked look at James and he seems to come to a decision relatively quickly. “I’ll make chase – you stop that blaze.”

Lily nods and does as instructed, _aguamenti_ pushed toward the front of her mind so her wand emits a rush of water on the pyre.

Though it is a strong enough blaze, the fire does seem responsive enough that she rules out Fiendfyre, but it’s no child’s play, beating it back.

She’s covered in ash and choking on smoke when James jogs back to her side, dejected. “They apparated as soon as they cleared whatever wards are placed around this beach. Hopefully there’s something here that’ll be helpful.”

With a nod, Lily acknowledges their need to succeed and refocuses her efforts alongside James’. And soon, with considerable difficulty, they bring the flames to heel and secure the cave with wards of their own.

When they breach the mouth, it’s to find less than they’d hoped but not complete failure, all things considered. Lily immediately strides toward one of the four broad workbenches, this one littered with stray ingredients and a few abandoned cauldrons, one of which is still steaming.

James kicks a stray crate, “Well this bust was a bust.”

Lily doesn’t answer, prodding the cauldron and cataloguing the detritus surrounding it, until she’s able to take in the entire tableau. “Not quite, Potter.”

He turns, face brightening with hope she’s trying not to enjoy too much, and Lily grins, “You forget, Fleamont’s not the only one with special Potions capabilities.”

He strides across the room, footsteps echoing in the cavernous hideaway, and grabs Lily up in a hug, a tight squeeze she realizes somewhere in the back of her mind is less satisfying when _she’s_ not really the one on the receiving end. But she sniffs, all business, and pulls away. “Now get to work – or are you too inept with the _art of Potions_ to identify ingredients?”

“Stuff it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO LONG coming. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me as I worked through this and to petalstofish in particular for being so lovely and proof reading this monster <3 <3<3 <3
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this ending!!!

Reinforcements arrive quickly, maintaining as much stealth as possible while emptying out the cave for any evidence available.  Lily’s got her third crate packed and has swallowed down half her supply of polyjuice over the course of the evening when James reappears from directing traffic toward the apparition point just down the beach and makes a beeline toward where she’s working.

“Alright, Ben?”

Lily nods, summoning a bit more packing fluff with her wand to cushion the top before tucking it around a few mostly empty and unlabeled jars.  The next one she grabs at random is similarly unmarked, but the sharp green leaves of Belladonna aren’t one she’s likely to forget. Living as she has for most of her existence, Lily made a habit of memorizing characteristics of things and people apt to kill or maim. Benjy called her morbid more than once, but it had paid off on more than one occasion, and definitely was already beginning to do the same here. So far, the ingredients she’d identified just in passing made her more than certain there was an explosive element to whatever plot the Death Eater’s were preparing. 

When she tells James as much, he doesn’t seem particularly surprised, but of course, is less than pleased.  “How big are we talking, scale wise?”

Lily tilts her head toward a packed crate marked with broad, eye catching letters F R A G I L E.  “There are three hollowed out Erumpent horns in that one – this one’s equal parts Belladonna and Dittany.”

James’ brows pinch together as he glances around for eavesdroppers, before he squats next to Lily and begins absently packing ingredients alongside her. He pitches his voice low, “So they’re planning to blow us up – and then heal us?”

Humming softly to herself, Lily doesn’t answer right away, still turning the issue over in her head.  “Depending on the preparation and how proficient the brewer is in potions  _ and  _ charms, there can be multiple effects for one concoction that happen in a preordained succession.”

He forces a light chuckle as a few Order members shuffle by, still in fairly good spirits in the wake of their success this evening. Once they’ve passed, he murmurs, “Which, in theory, is a fairly banal concept, yeah?  I’m guessing it’s not here though.”

“I can’t be sure until we catalog all  _ this  _ and examine it in the whole,” Lily begins, taking a swig from the flask tucked under her coat, just as a precaution, “I can’t be sure. But so far we’ve got bobotuber pus, which in general brings up open wounds.”

“And gets rid of spots,” James says, dry.

“Know from experience, Potter?”

He grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Mummy have lots of pictures of ickle Jamesie?”

“As if I’d introduce you to Mum Potter already – I’m not that easy,” James scoffs, studiously tucking in a few more vials away, likely hoping Lily won’t notice the flush burning the tips of his ears.

He needn’t have wasted the attempt, since Lily’s somehow got to the point of complete and utter attunement to James Potter.  A state of being which is awful for her sanity, particularly since his flush isn’t for  _ her _ . Not really.

So in her own best interest, Lily offers a short smile before changing the subject by resuming her explanation.  “Belladonna, which causes hallucinations and convulsions, among other things. And the Erumpment fluid – ”

“Dad definitely drilled the whole ‘this will blow up the entire house’ concept into my head,” James interjects, “But the dittany?”

Lily grimaces, “Imagine opening wounds, getting a hallucinogenic in the bloodstream, along with an explosive,” she pauses and runs a shaking hand through the carefully coiffed hair she’s still unused to, “And then sealing it all inside.”

* * *

 

Lily stays at Order headquarters late into the night after they’ve retrieved every last vial, crate, jar, and scrap of paper within the cave. She categorizes about a third of it before her vision blurs and she begins worrying that utter exhaustion will loosen her tongue.  She’s already almost forgotten her dose of polyjuice once, absorbed as she was in a particularly useful potions tome James had ‘borrowed’ from his dad. 

Through it all, James was at her side with helpful comments, fresh cups of tea, and a particularly beautiful moment when he supplied a brand new packet of Madame Rosmerta’s butterbeer biscuits.  Lily’s currently attempting to muster up enough energy to actually floo home when a thought occurs to her. “How’d you get them?”

James blinks at her, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses in an endearingly childish manner, “Er- Benjy.  Do you not remember how we got the Death Eaters?”

Lily lets out a groan and rolls her eyes, just to be sure she exuded the appropriate level of dramatic frustration as she drops her head back to rest on the chair.  “I mean the biscuits. Rosmerta only sells them at Christmas.”

“Sirius did a particular – and top secret – favor for her back in the day.”

She flops her head so she’s facing him, slumped down in her seat.  “So you tell me about your secret society but not about secret biscuits.”

Stacking papers filled with Lily’s cramped writing into some semblance of order, James slants a smile her way, “There are some things you have to earn trust for.”

That startles a laugh out of Lily and she uses the momentum to bring herself to her feet.  “I should be off.”

James flicks his wand and the crumb filled plates and cups sipped to the dregs float off to the already sudsy sink.  “You can always stay,” the blush again, and he ruffles his curls, “I mean there are plenty of beds. I’m staying so – not that we would be in the same – ”

And for a lot of Lily’s life, she assumed her death would be at the hands of some death eater or perhaps the result of a poorly executed prank against Benjy, depending on her levels of jollity during the day in question, but she’s rapidly becoming certain James Potter’s adorably inept flirtations will do her in before the week is out. The worst is, she can’t really enjoy it, not with the half full polyjuice flask weighing against her ribcage.

“Take a breath, eh?  I’ve got terrible lumbago – got a special mattress and everything.”

His answering smile is almost enough to have her damn the consequences and snog him within an inch of his life. But Lily’s not deficient in the self-control department; so she lets her lips quirk in response and manages to get herself home in one piece without tearing off James’ clothes and having her way with him.

* * *

 

The following morning – or more accurately, afternoon – Lily treats herself to an extravagant breakfast and lingers over it lazily, muscles still tense and eyes still bleary and overworked from the previous night’s antics.  

She’s dragging her last bit of toast through the remains of the yolk on her plate when the front door slips open and shut.  “Lily, wake up sleepy face.”

Lily groans and slumps back in her chair, propping her socked feet on the other.  “Shut it, I’m right here.”

“Miracles do happen,” Benjy booms, not even pretending to drop his tone.  

“God, my scalp hurts,” Lily mutters, “Are scalps supposed to hurt?  Does your scalp hurt?”

Benjy drops the grocery bags on the counter, thoughtful.  “I mean, it’s skin, so. And no, polyjuice doesn’t work that way - what is wrong with you?”

“I wonder if anyone’s studied the prolonged effects of polyjuice on scalps,” Lily muses, then points at Benjy, “Not that I was wrong - this was still our best option.  And nothing is wrong with me. Except I’m hearing knocking.”

“No, I hear that too, Lil,” Benjy laughs, flicking the latch on the window open and letting a rather stately looking owl inside.

It flaps about the room in a wide arc and then perches on the seat back above Lily’s feet, clicks its beak, and then offers its leg importantly.  Lily quirks a brow and Benjy snorts while the owl blinks at Lily, expectant.

When it becomes clear the bird is  _ not  _ going to pity Lily and her aching body and come closer, she leans forward with a wince and slips the parchment from its proffered foot.  It chirrups happily and then levels a meaningful glance at the jar of owl treats on the countertop.

While Benjy complies with the silent demand, Lily flicks open the wax seal and frowns at the blocky letters.  “So I’ve been summoned.”

“You, or me.”

“Me-you.”

“Why?”

Lily scans the missive once more, “I’d wager it’s related to the haul last night.  But they’d hardly detail anything like that in a letter - Sirius mostly just babbles on with some nonsensical coded mush of sentences.”

“Annoyed?”

Lily shrugs, “Endeared.”

“How long ‘til you’ve got to go?”

“A few hours yet.”

“Telly?”

“Telly.”

* * *

 

Time passes quickly when watching back-to-back episodes of your favorite science fiction adventures and before long, Lily’s a foot taller and combing back her hair with a slick of Sleekeazy's.  “Ben? I’ve got to be off.”

He tosses aside the wrinkled copy of  _ Which Broomstick?  _ and scrunches his nose, “That’s still weird.”

“What?  Me wearing you better than you do?”

Benjy throws a cushion at her head, “Off with you.”

“No good luck or ominous warnings?”

“I’m tired of your face.”

“You mean  _ your  _ face.”

“Get out.”

After sticking out her tongue in the most grown-up way possible, Lily disappears into the study and soon finds herself reappearing at Order headquarters in a swirl of green smoke and ash.

The room’s empty again, which leads Lily to believe that arrival times on invitations are likely staggered to avoid notice from the outside.  Or the Ministry, which is no doubt monitoring magical travel activity.

More at ease since her first trip, Lily offers a wave to the portraits - most are dozing save a stately man who simply sniffs and wipes his monocle - and makes her way into the hall.

At first, she’s unsure where to go in the darkened halls, with no sign or direction to point her toward the meeting, but after a large cracking sound and a resulting tremor that nearly sends a porcelain vase tumbling to the creaky wood floors, Lily turns definitively toward the west end of the house.

Before long, she’s outside a room with a wide wooden doorway where rumbling and good-natured jibes sound from within and she knocks twice - a likely futile gesture - and pushes the door open. 

It’s a lot to take in, this many grown men and women firing spells with expert precision.  Given her upbringing, most of her training has been in groups no larger than she can count on one hand.  Here, there are dozens of witches and wizards fighting as if they’re really in battle, the rules of duelling set aside in the name of preparation.

She’s certainly seen her fair share of spats with Death Eaters during her time with the underground, but given the covert nature of their operations, numbers remain small and all parties involved prefer to keep things low-key.

These people - they’re all flash  _ and  _ substance.  Beautifully executed, non-verbal spells that slash with expert precision, only to be blocked with equal proficiency.

Lily’s still marvelling at a particularly lovely  _ Bombarda  _ followed by a tuck-and-roll when a ‘whoop’ catches her attention on the other side of the training space.

Remus claps his hands appreciatively while Sirius takes a bow with a flourish.  This earns him an eye roll from James, who is. He’s sweaty, ok? Like ‘look at those glistening muscles’ sweaty.

And just as she thinks the one grace afforded to her is the t-shirt that at least partially disguises James’ delicious physique, he tucks his wand into a damn  _ thigh holster  _ and whips his t-shirt clean off.

It’s a beautiful sort of torture, worse than anything a Death Eater could imagine, being trapped inside Benjy’s body as a sort of spy while a disgustingly attractive bloke you definitely fancy trots about shirtless.  

Luckily, she’s apparently gone unnoticed so far, a state of affairs that holds true as she gapes like the lonely cow she is.  After a handful of moments, Lily drags herself from the indulgence that is ogling James Potter and strides across the room to join him and the others - they  _ are  _ her contacts after all.

“Alright, Potter?”

James twists around, laughter still on his face from whatever teasing banter he’d had going with Sirius, and his eyes widen.  “Ben! Glad you’re here.”

And though he keeps his bravado, Lily’s half certain a flush rises on James’ cheeks.  Which is gratifying but also not because she’s bloody  _ Benjy _ and this whole damn situation is going to drive her to madness.

Regardless, James doesn’t seem too eager to re-shirt himself, tossing the damp top over his shoulder and slipping his hands into his pockets.  He begins sauntering away and Lily’s luckily got some level of immunity from her pre-announcing herself gawking because James Potter looks just as good going as he does coming.   _ Oh god _ .

She’s so lost, she grabs to toy with the end of a braid that’s not there, desperately craving the little nervous tic like an addiction.  

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Sirius claps her on the shoulder and guides her in James’ wake toward the surprisingly well-stocked refreshment table.  “Benny - Benny and the Jets, my boy, my man, how are you, the hero of the hour?”

James takes a gulp of water and swipes at his mouth in that messy way that has Lily salivating.  Still, she’s not totally useless. “Benny and the Jets, never heard  _ that  _ one before.”  Benjy has grown to hate that particular association game with his name.  Lily made sure of it by the end of 1973.

Smiling, James punches her shoulder lightly.  “You really did get the two of us massive points with that whole reverse engineering bit,” James says, “I’d hug you but I’m pretty rank at the mo’.”

As Lily’s mustering up a sarcastic ‘thanks’, Sirius ruffles James’ hair and drawls, “What’s a little sweat between friends.”

And because someone up there has an amazing love-hate relationship with Lily Evans and loves screwing with her as a result, James winks at her.  “Raincheck - Ben’ll like me better after a shower.”

_ James  _ doesn’t have to deal with the ramifications of whatever  _ that  _ was, mainly Remus’ raised brows and Sirius’ knowing look.  Which is loads more unbearable when they’re teasing her because James is flirting with Benjy-Lily instead of Lily-Lily.

Honestly, if she didn’t hate Voldemort already…

Still, her romantic frustrations are relatively low on the list of priority, so Lily brushes those thoughts to the side and turns toward Remus as he munches a biscuit, “So, we reverse engineered - what’s the plan?  Have we got one yet?”

Sirius finishes preparing his tea and leads the way back out into the hall and toward a small drawing room Lily's not explored quite yet.

It’s a cozy nook, the fire flaring under a flick of Lily’s wand, and they soon claim seats on the golden tufted furniture that fills most of the room.  

“James is, I will admit,” Sirius begins around the rim of a surprisingly delicate china cup, “The mastermind for this sort of thing.”

“He is surprisingly good at strategic planning.”

Lily strokes her chin, finally getting used to the feel of a scruffy jawline.  “Well - not really. Wasn’t he quidditch captain?”

A scoff sounds from the doorway.  “At least  _ someone  _ remembers I’m not just a pretty face.”

“It’s a good thing,” Sirius says with a smirk that quickly turns into a scowl as James aims a stinging hex for his shoulder.

James slumps into the only empty armchair, casting his chiseled face golden in the glow of the fire.  He’s dressed in a surprisingly modern manner - another t-shirt with a muggle band emblazoned across the front and distressed trousers Lily’s certain he didn’t just buy to look like he supports muggles.  

Still damp, James’ hair sticks up in random bits when he ruffles it thoughtfully.  “Anyway, the plan is twofold - we’ve changed the main focus of training to either aim toward keeping the opponent from  _ using  _ the potion or to mitigate the effects if it’s unavoidable.”

Lily nods, thoughtful, and James continues, “The secondary goal is to create our own counter potions.  Definitely to protect ourselves from the effects. But more importantly, and perhaps more difficult as well, we need something to protect the muggles the fire bombs are certainly intended for.”

A lump forms in Lily’s throat at the thought muggles left defenseless and she can’t really find much to respond with.  

Remus kicks a leg up on the table and drops his head back with sigh.  “Yes, because we can be certain they aren’t prioritizing attacking anyone who can actually fight back.”

“Bunch of damn - bloody - ”

James produces a flask from...somewhere, and takes a swig before offering it around the circle.  “You’ll have to excuse Sirius, rage does wonders on his articulability.”

Accepting the proffered flask, Sirius adds a healthy serving to his tea. “That is not even a word.”

“I think it’d be articulacy,” Remus muses.

And somehow, the squeezing at Lily’s chest lightens at their banter.  It’s not that they don’t feel the weight of, of everything. But they draw strength in the moments of shared ease, that familiarity reminding them exactly what they fight for - for themselves and others.

The rest of the evening is filled with meetings, planning sessions that involve more people, more egos, but luckily no less illicit beverages, until Lily leaves in a cloud of green smoke.  James’ lingering glance and shy wave the last thing she sees.

_ Shite _ .

* * *

 

Luckily, or unluckily depending on Lily’s mood, Dorcas happens upon her not a quarter of an hour after she returns home.  And it’s genuine curiosity and not entirely diversion motivated questioning that has Lily’s brow furrowing. “What brings you to Fenwick Manor at this late hour, Miss Meadows?”

Dorcas rolls her eyes and drops back onto the couch cushions with a dramatic sigh.  “Sadly, nothing so scandalous as you’re insinuating.”

“Aw, Benny giving you a hard time?”

“I’ve got closer to shagging you as Benjy than Benjy-Benjy.”

“We do have some raw, animal tension, Dorky.”

Lily unbuttons her collar scratches at her scalp, that tell-tale itch of de-polyjuicing rising all over her skin.  

Plopping her bare feet into Lily’s lap, Dorcas shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth.  “I can’t deny that, my dear. But I have a feeling your affections lie  _ elsewhere _ .  With a certain dark haired rake?”

“Doesn’t matter one way or another,” Lily groans, “The whole situation is a giant steaming pile of dung where no matter how you slice it Lily Evans doesn’t get any.”

Dorcas’ face softens, sympathetic.  Lily’s best defenses against feelings are generally sarcasm, innuendo, and references to shite.  “It’ll work out somehow, love.”

“Well James was flirting with  _ my  _ personality in Benjy’s body, Benjy’s got his head up his arse, you’re in love with him, Remus just makes knowing faces at me, and the Death Eaters have bloody fire bombs - ” Lily cuts off, voice quieting from it’s steadily ratcheting pitch, “So if you’ve got an answer to how  _ any  _ of that can work out, I’m all ears.”

Shuffling closer, Dorcas tucks her head onto Lily’s shoulder, now dwarfed within the borrowed robes.  “Well there’s no need to be snippy, Miss.”

Lily runs her fingers through Dorcas’ curls.  “I’m sorry, Dorky.”

Dorcas snorts, “For calling me Dorky?  Yeah, you will be.”

“I really am.”

“I know, me too.”

The fire crackles comfortingly, Lily’s toes warmed by the steady glow, and everything cozy and quiet so each thinks the other has drifted off.

Until Lily clears her throat.  “So. I saw James Potter without a shirt.”

* * *

 

Lily’s plans for a rushed and slightly hungover breakfast the following morning come to a screeching halt when she stumbles into the kitchen and finds Benjy shirtless stirring something at the stove.

“Want some oatmeal Dor - ”

He’s halfway turned to face Lily when he realizes his mistake, cheeks immediately flushing, “Lily!  We - I thought - ”

“You better have berries - Lily!”

Any remaining composure Lily had immediately vanishes at the sight of Dorcas’ tanned skin barely hidden beneath Benjy’s Portree jersey.  And where Benjy’s a whole mess of flushing and stutters, Dorcas simply shrugs, “After our chat last night, I tucked you into bed and then - well.  You just got me thinking, yeah?”

Benjy sets two steaming bowls on the table and returns to the stove, “Ew, please don’t say we shagged because of my sister.”

Lily rolls her eyes, “At least some good is coming from my misery.”

The grin falls from Benjy’s face as he flicks his wand so his bowl and another full of fruit settle on the table.  “Lily, if you want out we don’t have to - ”

“No - I - it’s just,” Lily grips the roots of her hair, then takes a breath and grabs for the brown sugar, “I am fine.  More than, now that you two pulled your heads out of your arses.”

Benjy links his foot around the leg of Dorcas’ chair and tugs her close enough that he can press a kiss to her hairline.  “Yeah, me too.”

Gag-reflex aside, Lily’s really genuinely happy for the two of them.  Two of her all time favorites are happy, together, and safe. For the time being.

Lily scoops a couple of spoonfuls into her mouth and crunches a slice of toast between her teeth.  “Really though - I need to go slip into something more manly and then slip into something else manly.”

“We both know what you’re talking about, Lily, why are you using terrible codes?”

“My life has few diversions and distinctions,” Lily shouts over her shoulder, “Don’t begrudge me my terrible attempts at humor.”

Soon enough, Lily’s in some muggle sweats and heading off for headquarters, a foot taller and with alternative...baggage.  It’s a relief, not being all stuffed up into the prim robes expected for a wizard of Benjy’s ‘standing.’ 

Plus, she’s got a lot of pent up - whatever - and a few hours of sparring should take the edge off.

When she arrives, it’s still barely half past nine and the house is quieter, less full than the previous evening.

Her  _ status _ within the wizarding world means she’s never been able to enter the workforce in any traditional sense.  She’s done some work from home, had a few muggle jobs, and the finally with the escalation of...everything, decided to go full time with the Underground.  

Which means she’s one of the few Order Members with relatively full time availability.  So her arrival is fairly exciting for her portrait friends, Gert being the most outspoken, as usual.

“Lovely seeing you again, Benjy,” she says from the corner in a low whisper, her gaze darting to a few of her still slumbering companions, “Dear James has been in a tizzy since just past sun up this morning.”

The meaningful glance that accompanied that statement would be much more fun if Lily wasn’t in such a bloody mess with this whole James business.  Still - he’ll probably understand, given time, if she’s ever able to come clean. It’s not as if there was much choice. And he doesn’t trust her with all their secrets yet.  Would be a lousy spy if he did.

Given her train of thought, the smile she offers Gert is a bit forced, which only earns her another knowing smile.   _ Damn portraits with too much time on their hands… _

Lily’s saved the trouble of any further response by the bell tolling half past - her proscribed meeting time with James and the others - and excuses herself into the hall.

Before she can venture far, James appears from somewhere toward the front of the house, similarly attired to last night.  Sadly  _ with  _ shirt.  Though it means Lily’s sanity stands a far better chance.

“Ready to get down to business, Benjy?”

“Always, Potter.”

Like last night, there are mats spread throughout the training room, likely a former ballroom given the size and relative posh feeling of the room, and Sirius is lounging in a settee tucked off in the corner.  “My favorites are here at last.”

Lily elbows James, “Does it hurt that I’m a favorite after investing less than a month and you’ve got what, fifteen years?”

“He’s such a dog.”  James snickers, apparently enjoying some joke Lily’s not a party to, but he sobers, “Really, I’m always glad to see we haven’t screwed him up.  Plus he’s a fairly good judge of character. Unless it’s about roadside carts.”

“That fruit was fine, swanky boy.”

James grimaces, “I threw up for a week.”

“It was purging you of toxins,” Sirius shrugs, “That’s what fruit is for.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s not, Black,” Lily says with a smirk, “Sorry.”

And then James links an arm around Lily’s neck and presses a kiss to her cheek, nearly stopping her heart in the process. “You’re the best, Fenwick.”

If the kiss stopped her heart, ‘Fenwick’ turned it to a brick.

* * *

 

For the first hour, Lily and Sirius volley spells back and forth, criss crossing over the empty space like a pair of dancers while James calls out critiques, tips, and occasional jeers.  Sirius’ energy begins to flag, strokes remaining effective but sloppy and James’ expression has turned less than jovial.

“Sirius, you’re not helping anyone with your half-arsed duelling.”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius fires a few stinging hexes Lily easily blocks and scowls at James, “It’s been over an hour, one of us would be dead by now.”

James’ expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Don’t bloody say things like that.”

“It’s true -  _ god  _ James, it doesn’t matter what happens in here - you saw what happened to Gideon and Fabian - ”

Sirius never finishes his sentence, letting his arm drop and storming from the room.  The thick wooden door falls shut with a thud so Lily and James are alone in the silent room, morning light spilling in past the glamored window panes.

Lily tucks her wand away and takes a swig from her flask before slipping it back into her pocket.  James is slumped against the windowpane, eyes studying the floorboards when he mutters, “They’re not dead - Gideon and Fabian.  Not yet, that is. God - at some point I was an optimist.”

After a moment, Lily closes the distance between them, reaching a tentative hand for James’ shoulder.  His gaze darts toward her grip, then toward her face, before he softens further, like the fight’s gone out of him, “Does it really matter if I’m still here if I’m not me?”

She cups his jaw and lifts his eyes to hers, “You’re still you - we might not be the same people.  But after ten years, who can expect to be the same?”

“Getting all philosophical on me Ben?” James asks, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

Lily’s half caught up in the golden light of his eyes beneath the sunbeams that warm her face, enough so that she somehow steps  _ closer _ .  “You started it, Potter.”

James’ hand rises to her waist, palm warm and broad against her pack, silver rims of his eyeglasses glinting and nose just brushing hers.

It’s all so perfect, so blissful, until Lily tilts her head back and reaches to knit her fingers through James’ hair and realizes the reach is not so far as expected, as far as it should be.  Because she’s not her - they’re not - 

Abruptly, she clears her throat and steps away, “I uh- we- so do you have a potions room?”

Stepping back rapidly, James stumbles into the window again and rubs at his neck.  “Yes we - yes.”

When she’s ensconced in her domain, surrounded by bundles of dried plants, jars of various bits of creatures - magical and non - and whatever else a potioneer could dream of.  Because it really is a dream, that is. A bright spot and a place of respite in the midst of lies and deceit and death and fear that surround on a daily basis.

So that’s how the remainder of the day passes, in a blur of ink stained fingers, hastily scrawled notes across yellowed parchment, and more than a few botched attempts at creating the (for lack of a better term) antidote to their problem.

At some point, James appeared at what she presumes was lunch time and with a platter of sandwiches, a sheepish smile, and a quick disappearance.

As if another messy feature needed to be added to Lily’s life - knowing she’s got some mutual unresolved sexual tension happening with the fittest bloke she’s ever seen and her, in her brother’s body...it would be really nice for something to be  _ off  _ her plate.

Which seems to be a vain hope until she swaps out the powdered erumpent horn for armadillo bile and adds a diced bat spleen, a bit of ground up asphodel, and a dash of powdered lionfish spine.

The potion swirling in the broad cauldron darkens to near blackness, red spots like bits of shimmering ruby run in circuits under the careful twists of Lily’s wand.  There’s a tickling at her scalp and she scratches, ruffling up her carefully coiffed hair, too lost in potioneering until she recalls -  _ itching _ .

With quick, shaky hands, Lily unscrews her flask and takes a long swig.  “I need a bloody nap.”

A squeak sounds as the dark wooden doors on the dungeon swing open, James entering with a much calmed Sirius in his wake.  “How’s things Benjy?”

Lily rolls her neck, just now realizing the tightness that’s settled in, and leans back in her rickety chair.  “Ready for some testing?”

James tucks his fists into his pockets, “As I’ll ever be, eh?”

Sirius flicks his wand and a blockade of sorts surrounds a test dummy tucked in the farthest corner.  

They duck behind the upended crates and transfigured sandbags before Lily counts to three and tosses the recreation of the incendiary potion with accuracy born of too many hours spent holed up with only Benjy and a quaffle for entertainment.  The dummy immediately goes up in flames, heat filling the room with muggy thickness.

“On the ready, just in case?” Lily asks, grip tight on her hopefully antidote.

As Lily blows out a breath, her companions nod in unison and she sends the second vial arcing through the air.

And somehow, by some miracle, it runs over the canvas dummy and slowly quenches the rising magical flames, leaving behind a slick of sparking black and red liquid like a volcanic eruption.

Sirius grins and claps Lily on the shoulder.  “You’re all right, Benny.”

* * *

 

After Lily carefully records her exact recipe and makes multiple copies to be carefully guarded by trusted Order Members (and keeps one for herself, with James’ quiet approval) she heads back home to soak the tiredness from her bones with a warm bath filled to the brim.

By the time she’s home, swallowed down a hastily prepared sandwich, and gotten her bath to the ideal temperature, she’s fully back in her own body and half ready to fall asleep.

The warm water leeches the pain from her muscles and the heady scent of lavender calms her racing blood until Lily’s dozing against the white porcelain, long red waves cascading over the side like a crimson waterfall.

Continuing the treat of an evening, Lily eventually drags herself from the tub as the temperature cools to tepid and her fingers grow pruny and wraps herself in a thick, wool-lined dressing gown and slippers to match.

Poirot is about to reveal the unexpected culprit when the floo flares and real Benjy stumbles from the flames.  

Immediately snapped back to reality, Lily drops her book and rises, arm banding around Benjy’s waist. “What happened?  Is everyone alright?”

His usually carefully coiffed hair is a mess of blond tendrils falling around his face, drawing attention to the already purpling ring around his eye.  “Guess the safe house wasn’t quite as secure as we hoped.”

“Did - ”

Benjy nods, anticipating her question.  “We all got out, nothing beyond a few cuts and bruises - Mary splinched herself getting a couple kids out but we had that dittany on hand.”

“Oh god, Ben I should’ve been there,” Lily groans, shepherding him toward the couch, “I spent the damn evening soaking in the bath and - ”

“What could you have done that we didn’t?  You can’t be everywhere and everything to everyone - though if anyone could I’d bet on you,” he droops back against the cushions, “The dittany - that was you.  Hell, we knew about the likelihood of new and fiery tactics because of your sleuthing.”

Lily chuckles wetly, settling her emergency kit on the table and unzipping the worn leather.  “ _ Sleuthing _ ?”

“I said what I said.”

He winces when she dabs the salve on his bruising face, though the tension relaxes from his body with every passing tick of the clock.  “I do - I do think that maybe we should. That maybe it’s time to cut things off with the Order. If they’ve got a leak, if we’ve got a leak.  It’s doubling the danger and if they realize you’re you  _ and  _ pretending to be a pureblood.”

Benjy doesn’t continue, likely already anticipating Lily’s flat refusal.  Which, isn’t for a lack of self preservation instincts or respect for his judgment.  She just, can’t. Can’t sit back and wait for someone to tell her they  _ decided  _ she gets to be what she is already, always has been, and can’t really un-be.  

And she knows, after all this time, Benjy is more than aware of her stance on the matter.  But it’s that sad last shred of hopefulness anyone who loves someone understands. That last ditch effort to try keeping them from harm, even when you’re more than aware that it’s a lost cause.

“You already know my answer, Ben.”

“I do.”

“But I love you for caring.  About me, about people like me, about a world that sometimes doesn’t seem to care much for anyone.”

A tear tracks through the dark smudges over his cheeks and he hauls Lily in against his chest and tucks his nose into her hair.  “Aw, you’re fresh and clean and I’ve gone and got you all nasty.”

“I love you anyway.”

Nodding tiredly, soot falling from his lank hair, Benjy sniffs and hugs her closer.  “Love you too, Little Bit.”

* * *

 

It’s easy when things feel so  _ big  _ to forget the smaller moving parts that build up to the overall state of affairs.  Most are guilty of forgetting at some point or another, and Lily’s no exception. And funnily enough, it’s Sirius Black that reminds her.  They’re staking out a muggle neighborhood they got word was on the hit list for Death Eater activity, which seems to have been rained out, when Sirius takes a sip from his thermos and readjusts his squat.  “From one black sheep to another,” Sirius begins, “You’ve really got to keep an eye on your public image.”

Lily ruffles her hood up further over her face.  “Come again?”

“You’ve not been seen out and about much lately - that draws more attention than trying to draw attention,” Sirius shrugs, “Take out that bird you brought to that little soiree.  It’ll make James right jealous.”

Flushing, Lily swallows a healthy gulp of polyjuice and licks her lips.  “Not sure why he would be - or why I’d want him to be.”

“Sure.”

“But point taken - Dorcas and me, that’s how we ended up at that party, and at Diagon a couple of weeks earlier.”

“And if it bothers James a bit in the meantime, I get some entertainment.”

The rest of the stake out passes without much interest, rain apparently delaying plans.  Which is a short term positive, but long term, indicates that the Death Eaters really  _ are  _ hinging their plans on incendiary potions, spells, and whatever other hellish devices they’ve managed to cook up.

A slow night does give Lily time to turn over what Sirius said, begin plotting another little date with Dorcas.  Benjy’ll be a pit put out that Lily’s going on a second date with his girlfriend before he’s got a chance to do it once.

She’s planning to send Dorcas an owl when she gets home, but the minute she steps from the fireplace she’s confronted with a  _ lot  _ more of Benjy than she prefers to see - things she’s managed to avoid over the past months with studious attention.

“Oh shite.”

Dorcas yelps and sends herself and Benjy rolling onto the rug, wedged awkwardly between the sofa and the table.  Benjy groans. “Thought you’d have a debrief and such.”

“Short, nothing much to report.”

Dorcas raises her hand like she’s in a classroom.

“Yes Dorky?”   
“Can we reconvene this meeting for long enough for me to put on some trousers and there to be one fewer Benjy?”

Lily nods, eyes still covered.  “Sounds good. I expect fresh biscuits to be waiting.”

The next quarter of an hour or so  is spent de-Benjying herself, taking a scalding shower, and snuggling into an oversized jumper and soft cotton joggers.  She stumbles down the stairs, tugging on wooly socks, and makes her way into the kitchen where her companions are luckily much more clothed than previously.  And bearing chocolate biscuits.

Once they’re all gathered around the table, mugs brimming with tea and fingers full of crumbles, Lily tosses her damp hair and props her foot on the seat of her chair.  “So I had a chat with Sirius Black.”

“Was it about his hair products?  That man has disgustingly gorgeous hair,” Dorcas drawls, “I hate him for it.”

“I’ll see if I can get you some intel,” Lily chuckles around a bite of biscuit, “But no.  We were talking about Benjy - me - and how he needs to be more visible.”

“Ironic we forgot,” Benjy says.

Lily hums.  “So I as you need to steal your - girlfriend?”

“ _ Lover _ ,” Dorcas snorts.

Wincing, Lily tosses a serviette at Benjy’s head when he teases, “Paramour.”

“I was going to apologize, but never mind.”

After much teasing, ribbing, and the like, they manage like they always do and have a semblance of a plan hammered out by the time Lily’s yawns punctuate every sentence.  Benjy orders her off to bed and Lily demands massive amounts of silencing charms as she stomps up to her room. 

She’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

Two days later, their plan is set into motion - another Diagon visit - but with much more obvious displays of affection.  Mostly hand holding and the like. Even considering any of the bases is too much for all parties involved.

Lily and Dorcas are just stepping out from Flourish and Blotts and into the sunny afternoon when they get a face full of broad man chest.

Catching Dorcas around the waist, Lily manages to keep them both upright while a strong hand grips her elbow.

“Ben!”

Lily blinks against the sun’s rays and finds herself face to face with none other than James Potter.  She was going to bloody  _ murder  _ Sirius Black.

“James!  This is my - this is Dorcas.”

Ever polite, Dorcas offers her hand and makes easy small talk.  But James’ answers remain short and perfunctory.

Until he shakes his head and squints at Lily.  “Why are you here?”

Lily glances down at the bags in her hands and blinks at James.  “I’d say it seems fairly obvious. Why are  _ you  _ here?”

“Errands.”

Her eyes narrow and Dorcas seems obnoxiously content to watch this trainwreck unfold.

James’ lips quirk into a grin as he lets his gaze travel up and down Lily’s - Benjy’s - body in two quick circuits.  “You clean up alright, Fenwick.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

“Well that’s just rotten.  See if I save you a seat next bingo night.”

Dorcas’ eyes follow the conversation like a tennis match and Lily feels her face heat.  She coughs. “So, you’ll ah - let me know when the next game is?”

James glances at Dorcas and his face shutters.  “Sure thing. You’ve probably got plans - should let you go.”

Before he can get away, Lily grabs James’ arm and frowns.  “Is everything alright? You’re not one for outings.”

He scowls back and murmurs.  “Order business.”

“Dorcas and I - we’re about finished.  I could help.”

“Nah, it’s all under control.”

“That’s barely an answer, Potter.”

James bites his lip.  “If we really do have a leak - ” he trails off.

“It’s not me - hells James I’m not the bloody enemy.”

“I know.  But you’re new and they know that - they’ll see you as a potential weakness to exploit.”

“So I’m just a damn liability?  Nothing I’ve done matters, just that I’m not part of your little asinine club.  You know I’m getting tired of wizards and witches edging people out because they’ve not got the right background.”

James’ face darkens.  “That’s not the same thing and you bloody well know it.”

Dorcas grabs Lily’s sleeve, “Ben - we’ve drawn some attention,” Lily glances around to see Dorcas’ warning is far from an exaggeration.

Smoothing down her robes, Lily nods to James before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

 

It takes three days for Lily’s anger to cool to a low inferno, though any mention of secrets, leaks, James Potter, or anything that even remotely related to or rhymes with any of those things and Lily’s fists clench with repressed rage.  She’s pacing at the foot of her bed when when Benjy knocks at her door. “I guess you could do worse things than pace a hole in the floor while wearing my face.”

“I hadn’t thought of that - I  _ could  _ murder James and frame you.”

Chuckling, Benjy saunters over to her bed and settles on the mattress with a creak.  “You know.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

Benjy watches Lily resume her circuits, “I’m not making excuses.  Maybe try and put yourself in his position though, eh?”

Grunting, Lily storms from the room and tramps downstairs, before she’s late.

Glumly, Lily sits through the general meeting, holding her tongue and scaring off anyone who tries to claim a seat next to her.  Until Remus Lupin lopes over and meets her glare with a quirked brow. “So James has been in just as foul a mood the last few days.”

“I’m not.”

“You nearly made Pete cry.”

“So where is he, then?”

“Pete?  Drowning his sorrows in half a rhubarb pie.”

Lily snorts, face wrinkling into the first semblance of a smile since she arrived.  “I meant Potter.”

“He left this morning, top secret something or other - ”

Before Remus can continue, a clatter arises in the drawing room and someone shouts for a healer.

Without hesitating, Lily rises.  “I’ve unofficially trained in healing since I was thirteen.”

Remus nods, “Makes sense, given your affinity for potioneering.”

Humming, Lily’s mind is already half on whatever she’ll face in the drawing room turned hospital wing, dreading the very likely reality that the Death Eaters have already debuted their fire weapons. 

She’s shocked back to reality by a riot of black hair and Remus’ pained gasp.  “James.”

Even from a distance, Lily can see where the flames licked up James’  hands, arms, even up to his jaw. In three strides, Lily’s at James’ bedside, barking orders and shooing away anyone who gets in her way.  “Remus, please, tell them.”

“Benjy’s been studying these potions and spells since the raid - he’s James’ best shot.”

Lily’s operating entirely on instinct, Remus operating as her assistant of sorts, grabbing or summoning whatever she asks for as she spreads salves, tinctures, and spells over James’ burns.

Once the initial excitement has worn off, their audience disappears and Remus goes to get a debrief from the rest of James’ team.  Lily’s worked about halfway up his right arm when James wakes with a pained groan. “Where’s - ”

A strand of hair falls into Lily’s eyes and she blows it away absently, brushing her fingertips along James’ unmarred skin in a show of comfort.  “Everyone’s alright - you’re the only injury,” she snorts, “I’d bet on showy heroics for that explanation.”

James blinks tiredly, breaths calming before his eyes widen.  “Who’re you?”

“I - ” Lily glances down at her hands and her stomach drops.  In a feat of quick thinking, Lily sends a mild stunner James’ way and takes a swig from her flask.  

Once the telltale tingle runs through her, Lily rouses James and grins, “Having a nice dream there?”

James furrows his brow, wincing when his raw skin pulls with the motion.  “You- I- can’t really remember much. Just a woman. Shite she was gorgeous.”

Lily darts her eyes away while James shifts uncomfortably and his cheeks turn rosy.  “I mean. Thanks for. I know we aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Water under the bridge,” Lily says easily, tugging her robes back over her shoulders against the late night chill, “I’ve done what I can for now, you’ll have to take it easy for a few days.  Which will be a greater feat than the Order potluck surviving Peter.”

That earns Lily a chuckle, quickly followed by James’ wince as he re-settles against the scratchy bedsheets.  “So now I owe you an apology  _ and  _ a life debt.”

The room is silent around them, save the crackle of the fireplace and Lily’s movements as she closes up the jars she’s used to treat James.  “We can hardly hold each other to life debts, James,” Lily says softly, “Though I will accept the apology. If I can add one of my own,” Lily fiddles with her sleeve, “I’m still supremely unhappy, but I do understand your position,” James grins and Lily answers with a smile of her own, “It’s the wrong position, but understandable.”

Slowly, James reaches for Lily’s hand, “Thank you.”

“I just patched you up.”

“No, I mean.  Without your sleuthing, we’d have died.  All of us out there tonight.”

Weary with subterfuge and tiredness, Lily allows herself one indulgence, fingers brushing through James’ singed hair, thumb lingering at his temple, eyes drifting shut so she can pretend, just for this moment, that her life isn’t an utter fiasco.

* * *

Lily’s laid up with a head cold, which means Benjy ordered her not to leave the house, so she’s holed away in the family library with a favorite book just to pass the time.  She’s dozing against the back of her chair when she’s jolted awake by a clatter. Sighing, Lily marks her place and sets the book aside, shuffling into the hallway. Sometimes living with Benjy is like having an elephant for a roommate.  “Alright, Ben?”

After finishing setting the umbrella stand upright, Benjy straightens and grins sheepishly.  “I - uh. Who really is alright, what does that mean, in the grand scheme?”

“See, that’s just lazy.  You  _ want  _ to tell me whatever happened but you’re too chicken to just blurt it like a normal person.  So you make a mess and then force  _ me  _ to drag it out of you,” LIly sniffs, “It’s rude.  Especially when I’m so ill.”

“Don’t whine, it’s unbecoming.”

“Stuff it and spill.”

Benjy tosses his cloak onto a hook and leads the way into the sitting room.  He takes a seat, rubbing at his knees nervously before he rises and leans against the mantle.  “How about some tea - would you like some tea? Honey would help - ”

“Can’t be all that bad, Ben.”

“How bad would it be if, hypothetically, I ran into Potter?” Lily blinks and Benjy continues, “And he saw me?” Lily takes a deep breath, so Benjy plows ahead, “And we had a chat - it really wasn’t so terrible.”

“So you’re clearly an unreliable narrator - did anyone else witness this?  I need to know what my damage control plan should look like. Where’s Dorky?”

As if on cue, the floo flares and Dorcas emerges looking cozy and warm in an oversized jumper she nicked from Benjy.  “So crazy over there made a right mess for you, Lils.”

Groaning, Lily droops on the couch and throws an arm over her face.  “I’m too sick for this.” 

“That’s it!” Dorcas shouts.  

Or perhaps says at a relatively normal volume, but Lily’s got a head cold so...

“You just stick with the truth.”

Benjy frowns.  “‘Sorry, James.  I’ve been polyjuicing myself to be my brother and yesterday you actually met him instead of me.’  That’ll go over great Dorcas.”

Dorcas tosses a cushion at his head with minimal success and focuses on Lily.  “By ‘truth’, I meant tell him you were sick when you saw him and that’s why you behaved like someone who had never interacted with  _ humans  _ before.”

Snickering, Lily props her feet on Dorcas’ lap and feels the tension in her shoulders relax.  “You’re brilliant Dorky. I’ll never know why you’re with my lunk of a brother.”

“My animal magnetism,” Benjy calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the hall, likely in search of libations.  

Dorcas smirks, “More like his - ”

“Do  _ not  _ finish that sentence.  I’ve not sicked up for at least two hours and I’d like to keep it so.”

It’s just luck that James shows up at the house when Benjy’s out running strangely banal errands for the afternoon and furthermore that Dorcas is there to receive him.

She makes enough noise, practically shouting ‘Hello Mr. James Potter, in Fenwick Manor for the first time’ that Lily is able to apparate up to her room, take a sip from her emergency polyjuice, and scrabble on some wrinkled sweats she swiped from Benjy ages ago.

Lovely, amazing, wonderful woman that she is, Dorcas has plied James with tea and damn  _ sandwiches _ .  It’s no mystery why Benjy fell in love - and if Lily wasn’t disgustingly and complicatedly infatuated with James Potter she’d probably throw her metaphorical hat in the ring.  

And she’d win too.

Shaking out her shoulders, Lily strides into the library with a welcoming smile.  “Potter. Nice to see you again,” Dorcas clears her throat and Lily adds, “So soon.  Everything okay?”

James nods, “I was just telling Ms. Meadows - ”

“Dorcas is fine.”

“ - Dorcas that you seemed a bit off in Diagon and I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a cry for help.”

Lily pours herself some tea and parks herself on the edge of the settee.  “Nah, I’m a bit under the weather, Dorcas ordered me off to bed just after we arrived home.”

At that, James’ gaze darts between them and Lily’s already got a clarification on her tongue.  Until she realizes  _ that  _ would be a lie.  She’s Benjy, Benjy  _ is  _ with Dorcas, really  _ isn’t  _ available.

So she fiddles with her cup in her saucer until Dorcas takes pity and changes the subject.

It’s not long before James rises, excusing himself with some vague explanation.  Dorcas makes herself scarce and Lily escorts James toward the floo. “Is everything alright with you?”

James startles at her hand on his arm and looks as though he hasn’t followed her train of thought.  He blinks twice and seems to catch up, turning to face her. “Oh - er. Yeah. Sorry to barge in here like an angry murtlap.”

Smiling softly, Lily pats his shoulder and tries quite hard not to let her touch linger too horribly long.  But she’s feverish and woozy so it’s anyone’s guess. “You’re fine, James. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

James flounders a bit before grasping Lily’s hand in both of his, thumb rubbing across the back of her hand.  “S’alright. Just,” he squeezes and releases his grip, “Feel better, yeah?”

“And you uh - ,” Lily runs her fingers through her hair, finally not caught off guard when the strands end an arm’s length too soon, “You stay safe.  I’ll not be around to take care of you if you get yourself beat up tonight.”

“Later, then, Ben?”

“Later.”

* * *

 

It would be nice, Lily thinks, if life scheduled itself in a more kind and convenient manner.  After sleepless nights, week-long illnesses, post-exercise soreness, what have you, the world would just be a little more easy going.  Wade you back into existing. 

Instead it seems like the universe is intent on making Lily want to absolutely hurl with tiredness, post-fever malaise, and overall discomfort by allowing the larged Death Eater activity in the last year and a half occur while she’s not even washed the stink of her cold off.

She’s sudsing up in the shower not a handful of minutes after Remus’ patronus arrived when the loo door slams open.  “Lily you can’t possibly intend to go out in this.”

“If I stayed in every time it rained I’d never leave the house, Ben.  We live in England,” Lily calls out, swiping shampoo bubbles from her eyes.

“Don’t be cute.”

Ripping back the curtain so she can peer out, Lily grins.  “Aw, Benny, you think I’m cute?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

From within the now turned off shower, Lily summons her towel from the rack and dries herself off hastily before grabbing her dressing gown and slipping it over her still damp shoulders.  “Ben,” Lily starts, throwing back the curtain and stepping onto the plush mat, “Everything’s dangerous. Just by virtue of my existence - who I am - I’m constantly in danger. I don’t want to feel that way anymore.  I want to have kids someday who can go to Hogwarts when they’re supposed to. Not fifteen years later, under spell damage, and confined to the Hospital Wing.”

Benjy’s expression softens and he reaches for her shoulder.  Sighing, Lily gives him a short embrace and pulls away. “I’m not saying all that to be a martyr.  I just - this is so much more personal when you’re someone like me. You’re fighting to make your world a better place.  I’m fighting to be a part of it.”

Swiping under his eyes, Benjy nods and makes to leave.  Lily squeezes his arm. “Be safe Ben.”

Less than a half hour after Remus’ message, Lily’s greeted Gert and followed the sound of heavy footfalls and shouted instructions, ending up in the training room turned command center.

Voices bounce off the walls as small groups of wizards and witches gather in small klatches, others mill about nervously, seeming - for the first time since Lily’s been a pseudo member of the Order - like a rudderless boat set adrift.

And if it seemed like something was missing, or perhaps  _ someone  _ the answer to Lily’s unasked question is answered when a dramatic flare from the oversized stone fireplace gives way to reveal a tall wizard in the place of flames.

Distracted as she was, Lily didn’t notice James’ arrival at her side until he murmurs in her ear.  “Dumbledore’s never been one for low key entrances.”

Lily’s about to question him further on the subject, when she recalls Benjy would be well aware of the Headmaster’s habits and propensities.  So she nods and does her best impression of one of Benjy’s commiserating grins, though it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a bit of flirty Lily slipped in there.

It’s with mixed emotions that Lily notes the interest that flashes in James’ eyes.  Though it does pass quickly as their attention is called back to the front of the room.

Dumbledore’s every bit as odd and brilliant as Benjy’s said, his long silvery beard tucked into a broad belt that wraps around the blue and purple brocade robes.  His half moon glasses glint in the firelight as he listens to a few hurried reports. It’s only a few moments before he’s addressing the whole group, kindness in his eyes as he greets them all - though his lingering gaze on Lily unsettles her a bit, like he’s working out a puzzle.  

Which would be odd, even under the most normal of circumstances, but given the fact that there  _ is  _ a bit of a puzzle to put together, Lily’s ill at ease.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, and thankfully neither does Dumbledore, as he quickly moves on to bigger issues that pertain to the group at large.  And in the grand scheme, it seems whatever questions he has for a Benjy Fenwick that doesn’t seem all that comfortable in his own skin, Dumbledore deems it a discussion for later.  

The tip was apparently dire enough for this ‘all hands on deck’ meeting and to require the large majority to be sent out into the field.  

Gravely, Dumbledore wishes them all luck and Remus takes over at the front, grouping them all into teams and James sends her a grim smile.  “Ready to go, partner?”

In hardly any time at all, they’re sent off to the trio of locations where sources tipped the Order off to heavy Death Eater activity.  It’s been traced to a water treatment center outside of Sheffield, a series of caves not unlike their original raid point, and a power plant in bloody Cokeworth.

So of course, Lily’s life is a series of terribly unpredictable and yet totally predictable coincidences, and she and James are among those assigned to the latter.

They’re broken into groups of three and four as Emma Vance passes off portkeys with instructions regarding Muggle interactions and what’s to be done with any gathered evidence - or prisoners.

That jittery feeling that precedes exams, public speaking, and even more so, a raid where armed and deadly witches and wizards are ready to wipe out everyone and anyone that stands in the way.

It’s muddy and smells of that odd mix of fresh grass and  _ coal  _ that’s so characteristic of Cokeworth Lily feels as if she’s transported back in time rather than across England.  There’s a lull before things get started, that uncomfortable waiting period where you half hate yourself for wishing things would just get started.  

James gestures toward a hill - one of the few with more than just saplings in the area surrounding the plant - and says, “Shall we head up there?  It’s a good enough vantage point.”

Nodding, Lily follows, gaze carefully avoiding the view just a bit to the east where she knows she’ll see that quiet little neighborhood, the neat rows of small but well loved houses, that one in particular…

“Not the best way to get back into the swing after a bout of the flu, eh?”

Lily laughs.  “Is there ever a good way to get back into the swing of this shite?”

“S’pose not.”

It’s a boring haze after that, counting the minutes between doses of polyjuice essentially Lily’s only excitement.  Aside from James’ witty chatter that Lily enjoys  _ way  _ too much.

He’s about to close a whispered tale involving Sirius, a flying motorbike, and muggle police that Lily’s about eighty-nine percent sure is actually true when sparks go up from one of the groups a little closer and they immediately tense.

“Ready Ben?”

“After you, James.”

And as easily as Lily thought it was too quiet, the entire world seems to go to chaos.  

An explosion rocks the northwest corner of the powerplant, sending up a ball of flame into the night sky.  Luckily appearing to be non-magical. Though it certainly won’t remain so for long.

Lily brushes her fingers over her coat, rough leather familiar under her palms as she reassures herself that each vial, powder, and potion is still in place.

Like a well-oiled machine, James and Lily dive into the fray, following the sound of spellfire through dark, dank corridors and into a large metallic room.  Shouts and clashes echo off the walls, kicking up dust and gouging out crevasses in the cement floor.

The death dance unfolds, masked Death Eaters sending slashes of green at every turn while their partners work, presumably setting the charges for their firebombs.

A spell slashes across Lily’s cheek, a second quickly following and sending a searing pain to her ribs as she stumbles backward.

James is locked in a heated duel with a witch, her wild curls seeming to crackle with energy, so he misses the hits Lily takes, falls behind one of the broad machines.  

Her attacker follows, his spindly fingers wrapped around his wand with comfortable ease that speak of training not just in magic, but dark and twisted torture and pain.  His lank hair is dark, shining in the orangey light that illuminates the plant.

Disadvantaged though she is, Lily fires off three spells in rapid succession in the hopes that her opponent will at least be delayed long enough that she can regain her footing.

She never gets to learn whether her plan would’ve worked as another joins their battle, sending the Death Eater sprawling and offering Lily a hand up.

“Thank - bloody hell.”

Benjy grimaces.  “What are the odds?”

“About the same that we got called to Cokeworth,” Lily says with a smirk, before her expression turns serious, “How - I can’t leave they’ll think something happened to me, to you.”

“And I - ”

Spellfire continues in flashes and crashes while Lily tries to ensure no one has noticed Benjy suddenly has a twin by casting a few haphazard wards around them.  

Before the last phrase leaves her lips, a figure stumbles around the pipes and blinks at her, then glances at Benjy, eyes going wide.

“Why the bloody buggering hell are there two of you?”

And somehow, in all Lily’s nightmares, all her daydreams about revealing herself and riding into the sunset with James, she never really thought about  _ how  _ that revelation would happen.  But whatever scenario she might’ve cooked up, it definitely didn’t look anything like this total trainwreck staged in Lily’s hometown.

Lily’s jaw works as she searches for something, anything to say that might make this okay, when Benjy sends her a sympathetic grimace and dives back out into the fray.  It’s a strange turn of events that somehow battling blood thirsty dark wizards feels like the less painful choice.

But there really isn’t one, a choice that is, not when James’ stare pins her in place and the wards she’d erected finally settle into place like a barely shimmering bubble around them.

“James - I - ”

An angry flush rises on James’ neck and he takes a step closer, “I can’t - you - why would someone pretend to be Benjy?”

A spell lands against Lily’s ward, the dull thud shuddering through the pearlescent surface as tiny fissures appear.  Lily glances at them nervously but James barely spares them a passing glance. “He knew - he recognized you.”

Lily quirks a brow.  “Well obviously he recognizes his own face.”

James narrows his eyes.  “You bloody well know what I mean Ben- who  _ are  _ you?”   
The tiny cracks spread, glowing gold and dangerous, mere moments from splitting their temporary haven into shards and Lily growls, “James, can we please do this later?”

“No,” James grunts, sending a rather impressive and effective stunner at their attacker, “Not until you explain why you’ve been lying.”

“Right  _ now _ ?”

With the speed of a man who’s spent most of his life either training for quidditch or battle, James sizes up their surroundings, eyes lighting on a closed door to god knows where, and grabs Lily’s arm.

Before she knows it, he’s thrown up every locking and shield charm she’s ever heard of, and a few she hasn’t, and then his full attention pins her.  “Talk.”

“James, people could be dying.”

“And  _ you  _ could be a Death Eater.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Lily kicks at a crate in the corner and drops down onto it.  “About twenty years ago, the Fenwicks found a little orphaned muggleborn waiting to be processed at the Ministry and greased the proverbial wheels of bureaucracy with some cash.” 

James’ mouth ticks into an almost smile.  “As the wealthy are wont to do.”

“So this scrawny red-haired nobody is all alone in the world and suddenly she’s part of the legendary Fenwick dynasty - but no one can know.”

“Which is why you weren’t at Hogwarts,” James supplies, pausing his circuit of the small room.

“Part of the pay off at the Ministry was to keep awareness of my survival to a minimum,” Lily adds, fiddling with the burnished buttons on her coat.

“So this whole charade - ”

James’ sentence is cut off by an explosion that rocks the room and nearly sends them both sprawling.  

Instantly, their eyes find each other and Lily knows she’s got to say something that gets them out of here before she ends up locked in a broom closet while the world goes to hell.  “I - I thought it was justified. Ben was drawing attention because he  _ wasn’t  _ drawing attention and the underground was on the verge of being compromised - ”

His mouth twists, brow furrowed thoughtfully while some inner battle rages.  Clearly, her shortened tale hasn’t fully convinced James - not that she can blame him too much.

But he’s not totally against her, considering he continues his mini interrogation, “So why not send Benjy out into the world?

“I didn’t want to take him away from the underground.”

James’ brow rises.  

Not entirely convinced herself, Lily continues, “And I was tired of being hidden away - it gets old.  I know I am lucky to have been kept safe but.”

For a minute, James stares at her, expression unreadable.  “I’m curious about the logistics of,” he gestures vaguely, “all this, but I’ll buy into it for the time being.”

It’s the stiff, closed off set of James’ jaw that has Lily’s heart plummeting, her mind for the first time off the battle a door away.  “I’m sorry. James, you weren’t - this wasn’t to plan.”

He ruffles his hair, head ducked as he murmurs, “I’m sorry too.”

And then without so much as a backward glance, the wards drop and James dives back into the thick of things with Lily at his side.  There’s some comfort in that, the fact that he doesn’t totally shunt her to the side. That whatever is between them, or is no longer between them, he must not hate her entirely.  

Besides, it’s for the best that he isn’t going out of his way to avoid her since he’s completely off his game, for every spell he dodges, two half hit their mark.  And each third that he fires goes astray. Which is why Lily’s nerves are thrumming like they never have and she’s poised to dive in front of him when a dark, fiery hex dashes across the room and seems intent on finding its mark on James’ chest.  

Desperate and short on time, Lily barely thinks before diving in front of him.  Wild, untamable flames lick past the edges of her dragon skin coat and dance over her skin.  She sees James’ expression shift from shock to fear to rage just as glass breaks behind her and the impact sends her flying.  Just before everything goes black, James’ panicked face appears above her own, smoke and ash heavy in the air as he gasps out, “ _ It’s you _ .’

* * *

 

The sun’s a pale yellow glow breaking over the horizon when Lily wakes in a strange room.  Ancient stone walls are split by broad windows that look over a lush green landscape, rolling hills slowly warming with the first brush of morning.

There’s a dull ache at the back of Lily’s head, a persistent itching that covers most of her exposed skin, but less  _ burning  _ than one would expect after being practically charbroiled alive.  Or at least she assumes that’s what happened - the explosion made a lot of things pretty unclear.  And while she’s sure that snog by a moonlit pond with James Potter, unlimited whipped cream, and a cozy little blanket nest wasn’t real other things are a little more difficult to discern.

Groaning, she fights to lift her eyes open to more than just slits and finds Benjy slumped in an uncomfortable looking chair at her bedside, dead to the world in sleep like only a Fenwick can achieve.

A quick glance at her bedside table reveals little in the way of projectile weapons, so Lily settles for a quick jab to Benjy’s knee with her bare toes - probably the only place on her body that isn’t unbelievably stiff.

With a jolt, Benjy wakes, righting himself in his chair and pushing his rumpled hair away from his face.  “Shite, Lily.”

Her grin turns to a grimace as her split lip reopens, but Lily still manages to grind out a dry answer, “I guess we won?”

Benjy huffs out a laugh, “As much as anyone can win, yeah.  We destroyed their supply and got the traffickers. And the muggleborns.”

Lily waves Benjy away as she lifts herself into a sitting position with somewhat of a struggle.  “Well good, because the Order’s not going to work with me anymore.”

Leaning forward, Benjy swipes a roll from what Lily assumes is her breakfast and bites into it messily.  “Actually, some bloke called Mad Eye was pretty keen on keeping ‘that sneaky little potions mistress’ around…”

Arms heavy with overexertion, Lily manages to lift the cup from her bedside table and crunches on the ice chips inside as frigid water slips down her raw throat.  “I’ll do whatever I can - but. From the outside - James is more important, what he does, what he is. He won’t want me around.”

Broad doors on the far end of the wing fall open and closed while a cloaked figure enters and drawls, “What exactly makes you think I don’t want you around?”

Abruptly, Lily sits up, dizzy enough that she nearly tips over the bedside.  Benjy jumps to prop her up, grip on her arms gentle but firm as he helps her settle against the re-fluffed pillows, before awkwardly excusing himself.

Her new visitor lingers a few paces away while Benjy presses a kiss to LIly’s forehead and disappears through those same large doors.  

It’s quiet, save for the ticking of an antique-looking clock that clicks steadily like a mechanical heartbeat, until Lily clears her throat.  “So. Where am I exactly?”

The stranger steps forward, face still shadowed - though Lily has little doubt who’s beneath the hood.  His voice is scratchy, tired, but so familiar it awakens an ache in her chest. “Hogwarts - Hospital Wing.”

Lily hums.  “Well at least I finally get to see some of it.”

Nimble fingers rising to grip at the edges of his hood, the visitor lets it pool around his neck and steps closer.  “We can do a tour before you leave. I’m a bit of an expert.”

“Potter.  James - Don’t you hate me?”

His lips twist in the grin that sends her pulse thrumming.  “No. It’s like a wise man - woman I suppose - once said, I don’t like it, but I understand why you did what you did.”

Lily nods, biting her lip.  “This is going to sound so shallow, and it’s really not the best time.  But I don’t even know what time we have anymore. We’re hardly in a world where any kind of certainty is possible - ”

James clears his throat and Lily takes a deep breath.  “Right. Sorry, I think I got a good knock to the head.  My question - I - do you like girls?”

Flushing, James ruffles his hair and fills the seat Benjy abandoned.  “I uh - yes. One in particular. She really messed with my brain though.  I thought she was her brother and had a whole reevaluation of my sexuality,” he laughs to himself, “And I also don’t know her name.”

It’s only the memory of the split in her lip that keeps Lily from grinning ear to ear.  “I’m Lily Evans. Fenwick is fine too, I suppose.”

“Well Lily Evans-maybe-Fenwick, I definitely had a thing for false Benjy - didn’t know I could be into Benjy - it wasn’t really him, but still.  It’s a bit of a mess, generally. But no, not going to make a play for Benjy.”

“Well that’s good because Dorcas would fillet you.”

They fall silent, catching each other’s gazes accidentally as every revelation from the last twenty-four hours, from the last  _ ten minutes _ , settles in the air around them.  

After a time, Lily murmurs, “In case it wasn’t clear, I uh, like you as me...that wasn’t fake.”

“You stopped the kiss,” James cuts in abruptly.

“Because I was  _ Benjy _ .”

“Well I thought I was doing it wrong, or that I had. I dunno. Misread?”  

Lily licks her lips.  “Too soon to ask for a second go?

James’ smirk is torturously teasing, his voice low and warm as it rumbles through his chest.  “We’ve not even been on a first date.”

“What about that lovely evening spent on the seaside?”

“Where you were your brother and we were staking out a Death Eater hideout?”

“Moonlit stroll.”

“Order raid.”

The shrug is habit, but Lily instantly regrets the pull on her still tender skin.  She powers through and fires back, “Bonding over mutual interest - isn’t that a big date thing?”

James pauses, “I do love a good night of ‘fighting the man.’  Particularly the tyrannical, hegemonic man.”

Lily’s brows rise, leaning forward to brush her fingers along his hand where it rests on the mattress.  “Using big words to woo me?”

He leans in closer, voice low, “Maybe.”

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Lily asks breathily.

Sirius’ stage whisper echoes through the room, “ _ I can’t believe this is working _ .”

Dorcas’ hiss to be quiet cuts him off.

With a laugh, James lets his head drop to Lily’s shoulder and her fingers knit through his hair as he mumbles, “Should I still try?”

“Are we ever going to get a better shot?” Lily chuckles.

James sits back and smiles, “Probably not.”

“Well then, lay one on me Potter.”

“Alright, Evans.”


End file.
